Emotion Sickness
by Just Ella
Summary: [PostRENT, MarkOC] Will Mark continue to isolate himself from his friends and lover in the hopes that he won't get hurt? Will her inner demons prove to be too much to handle?
1. Chapter 1

The usual disclaimer applies. I ,sadly, do not own these beautiful characters. They are all property of the late, great Jonathan Larson.

* * *

_Mark_

"Mark, tell me you're not filming that same girl again." Roger tossed his leather jacket on the couch and joined me at the windows at the front of the loft.

"She's constant. I like it." I held the camera up to the foggy glass for a few moments more. "And I haven't gotten a shot when it's snowing before so I need to get this while I can. Besides, this is about as close I'll get to interaction with members of the opposite sex. Maureen, Mimi, and Joanne excluded."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Get out from behind that camera lens and then talk to me. If you put yourself out there, you'd have girls putting out for you."

"Why bother? I'm going to die lonely anyway."

"You're not going to die lonely, Mark. Don't be stupid."

I sighed. "Roger, in all the time that we've lived in the loft, how many girlfriends have I had? How many girls have I brought home?"

Roger looked up at the ceiling, obviously thinking. "Well," he said "None. Maureen doesn't count."

I sighed again, this time out of frustration and self-pity. "See? I am going to die alone."

"You've been filming her for what, three weeks now? Just go out there tomorrow morning and talk to her. You know her schedule by now, probably down to a science."

Roger, the now eternal optimist? I don't think so. Even though his attitude has improved lately, there's still the chance that his relationship with Mimi will go south. Until her, I'd begun to think that he was incapable of having a lasting relationship. He's proved me wrong for a good six or seven months now so I guess I'm the fool.

"Don't you have someone else to bother? I'm trying to work here. I'm hoping to actually finish shooting this one and finally cut some film together." I loved Roger, I really did. I enjoyed his company… most of the time. But he was more of a hindrance than a help when I was working.

"Mimi's at work and you know how I hate going to the Cat Scratch while she's on…" Roger trailed off. I knew that he was probably clenching his fists as hard as possible. He has yet to fully accept Mimi's line of work so it's nothing short of difficult for him for him to see her up there.

"Well Maureen is downstairs, why don't you go help her out? I know she's working on a few performance piece and could use some musical accompaniment."

"Mark, just go out there and ask her on a date already. Or coffee! _Something_! You're obviously sexually frustrated and maybe this chick can get you out of your perpetual slump."

I flicked him off and returned to putting my camera away. I knew the only reason I was angry at him because he was right. "I'm going for coffee, do you want anything while I'm out?"

"Cigarettes, if you don't mind." He called from his bedroom, half-asleep already.

"I'll see you in a little while then." I wrapped my scarf around my neck tightly and grabbed my camera. I hurried down from the top floor, still hoping she'd be on our block. That way, I could follow her a little bit easier and without a rush to figure out which way she went.

After closing the door behind me, I looked to the left. No girl. Just a few homeless men warming their hands over a fire in a garbage can. That would make for some great footage, but I knew I'd kick myself later if I stopped to get it. With a quick glance right, I headed down the block to scour our neighborhood for her.

An hour later, with no luck, I grabbed a cup of coffee from a street vendor and headed back to the loft. Roger could get his own cigarettes.

As I rounded the corner that lead to our street, I smashed straight into someone carrying a large grocery bag.

"Damn it!" Someone shouted as produce and bread rained down on us.

* * *

I'm not going to beg for reviews, but it would be really nice to get some critique on this story. I promise that if you review my story, you'll get love in return. Even if you say that it's the shittiest story you've ever read... or something along those lines. 

-Ella


	2. Chapter 2

_Anne_

I looked down and saw my groceries strewn around the sidewalk. A carton of eggs was wide open and that the majority, if not all, of them were leaking down towards the gutter.

"Damn it." I repeated, bending over to see what could be salvaged. Joining the stream of egg yolks was a half gallon of milk, whose carton had a large rip in the side.

_How the hell does that happen?_

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and these streets are usually empty this time of day…" The stranger explained. He was reaching for his pocket. "Here, let me pay for whatever's running down the street right now."

I really didn't have enough money to replace what had been ruined, but it's not this guy's fault. "No, no. I'm at fault here too. I shouldn't have carried it in front of my face like that. I'm clumsy enough as it is…"

"I'm usually not this scatterbrained, I swear." He gesticulated madly for emphasis.

I shook my head and hoisted my purse back up on my shoulder. "No, today just isn't my day. Bad luck, poor karma, whatever you want to call it." I tried to gather the remaining items out of the slush before the packaging got soggy. "I'm sorry about your coffee. I guess we're even?"

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" He called after me. I was surprised by his persistence. He genuinely felt bad and wanted to make amends for such a small, insignificant accident. The poor guy even looked apologetic, which said a lot.

"I need a fucking cup of coffee." I couldn't help but smile in spite of the situation.

"Do you want to go to the Life?"

"The Life…?" I asked. It sounded like some pseudo-hippie health food store. Definitely not my thing.

"The Life Café, you know? Sure, it's a hole in the wall but it's relatively nice." He explained.

So over one cup of coffee (tea for him) we exchanged stories of this crazy city we call home.

"I'm Mark, Mark Cohen, by the way." He said, extending his hand over the table that was etched with multiple names.

"Anne Hayes."

"Anne Hayes the Certified Public Accountant, he laughed, adding another sugar into the ceramic cup. "Is your life as interesting as you're making it out to be?"

I joined him in his laughter. "Not even a fraction. But it pays the bills and keeps my father off my back."

"Don't I know how that is. My mom wanted me to be a doctor and ever since I told my parents that I wanted to be a filmmaker all I get are worried phone calls asking whether or not I need money…" He paused "And if I've found a good Jewish girl to marry and take back to Scarsdale."

Again, we shared a laugh over our sad lives. This was New York and yet, there were still recluse losers like him and I who didn't frequent the clubs and bars. What are the odds?

"My dad was showing me math flashcards when I was a toddler. You can't get geekier than that…" I shrugged.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, you pretty much have me beat. Even the worst of my horror stories can't match up to that."

I checked my watch. "9:24?" I just spent 3 hours in a dingy restaurant with a stranger who ruined my groceries. I had obviously lost track of time, and among other things my mind.

"Is it that early? Man, I was expecting it to be a lot later." Mark said. "Maybe my watch is off."

As I rummaged through my bag to find some cash, he held his wrist up to his ear.

"Oh, _that's_ why. My battery is dead." He noticed me pulling a few dollars out of my wallet. "You don't expect me to allow you to foot the bill, do you?"

I shook my head. "It's only fair. I drank the coffee."

"A coffee that's $1.25 and probably tasted like dirt." He pulled a wad of crinkled bills and tossed them on the table. "It's not like I can't afford it."

"It's not right though," I protested "On first dates… I mean… er, you split the check."

"Don't insult my masculinity, okay? It's fragile enough as it is." Mark laughed and pulled his jacket on. "Again, I'm sorry about your groceries."

"Accidents happen, people have bad days. It's not your fault." I put on my own coat and headed towards the door.

"Wait," Mark called. "Can I… uh, get your number?" He looked at his feet and I could see the blush rising in his cheeks.

_My god, he's absolutely adorable. But I bet that's the last thing he'd want to be described as by a woman._

"Yes, of course!" I grabbed a napkin off the table and hastily scribbled my name on it. "Just so you know, I screen my calls like a madwoman. So if I don't pick up right away, don't think I hate your or anything like that. Thanks for the coffee, Mark."

He just nodded and held the door open for me, his face a fantastic shade of red.

* * *

**Many **thanks to those who reviewed. I really was surprised to see that people were actually reading (let alone LIKING) this story. I'll update as frequently as I can, though I can't promise daily. I have whole future chapters written already but we won't get to that for quite a while. Be prepared for some twists and an ending that even I didn't think would come. Seriously, it's like my fingers had a mind of their own yesterday when I was working on it. Thanks again for the sweet reviews lost my rent, Bargaining, H.J. Glory, and Harper's Pixie.

-Ella


	3. Chapter 3

_Mark_

"I know your films are time consuming, but you've been gone for three hours. And in all the years we've been friends, I've never known you to film for _that _long. What gives?"

I wasn't going to admit to him that I actually went out searching for Anne, because then Roger would think I actually followed his advice. For once. And the last thing that boy needs is an ego stroke.

"I wasn't filming the whole time," I protested. "I went and got coffee and ran into a nice girl. Literally."

"And Mark Cohen finally finds someone to raise his temperature… among other things. Should we bust out the vodka in celebration?" Roger always knew the right things to say to make me want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

"You can, but I'm going to opt out and edit some film." I shrugged my coat off and tossed it onto the nearest surface. "So if you need anything, I'll be in my room."

"One last thing, Mark. Details on this mystery woman you barreled over." Roger smirked and hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter. "She has to be remotely interesting if she kept your attention for three whole hours!" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, typical Roger. But I could tell that he was happy for me because he never really gave people the third degree unless he was interested.

"Her name is Anne. She's a year younger than I am and she moved to the city a few months ago." I gave him as few details as possible in the hopes that I could escape to where everything was black and white and made sense.

"Fat or skinny? Tall or short? And more importantly, blonde or brunette? Come on Mark, there has to be more than that."

"She's about my height, maybe shorter because I think she had heels on. Definitely on the skinnier side. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a few freckles." I obviously wasn't going to get out of this as easy as I originally thought.

"She sounds like a female version of you. Good work, Cohen. You'll make your mother proud. But what does this Anne chick do for a living? Is she an _artist_ like you?" Roger made those horrible quotation mark gestures when he said 'artist'.

"Anne's a CPA. Want some tea?"

"A CPA?" Roger Laughed. "Jesus Christ, Mark! I think you've found someone who's a bigger geek than you are! A CP-fucking-A! I cannot wait to divulge that little tidbit of information to Maureen. She's gonna die!"

I gave him a quizzical look. "Tidbit? Since when have you said _that_? Maybe Mimi's insistence of an attitude adjustment is finally taking place."

"Shut up, Mark. At least I didn't date a lesbian." Even though there was no malice in his words, there was still the perpetual bite that occurred when Maureen's sexuality was brought up.

"Fuck you." I said, quietly retreating to my room to edit my film.

A loud knock disrupted me from my reverie. "You know I was only kidding," He protested through my door an hour or so later. "Can we just skip to the part where we both laugh about this?"

Roger knew Maureen had, and would always be, a sore spot where I was concerned. Sure, we were still friends but our relationship was usually mentioned when he needed a good laugh or, in this case, a comeback. It wasn't Maureen that I had an issue with, but imagine having to tell your parents that the woman you had been in a serious relationship with left you… for another woman.

"It's late, Roger," I sighed and started packing my camera and projector away. "Can't you just catch up with Mimi and call it a night?"

"She's not home yet." The door creaked under his weight. "And I do feel bad for saying it. You know I only do it because it gets a rise out of you."

"Goodnight." I stashed my equipment under my bed and pulled on a pair of flannel bottoms and a sweatshirt. The heat had been acting up lately and neither of us felt like dealing with Benny.

When I heard his door shut, I knew it was safe to go sleep without another interruption, at least until Roger needed someone to cook him breakfast the next morning or some menial task along those lines.

As I filled the kettle and put it on the (illegal) wood-burning stove, I realized that the loft was unusually quiet. I couldn't hear the fuzzy TV reception or even Roger playing his guitar. I noticed a Post-it on the counter.

_Breakfast at IHOP with Mimi and Collins._

_I'm sorry about last night._

_-Roger_

I was a little bit surprised to see the note. Roger isn't one to share the details of his whereabouts, usually coming and going as he pleases without a word. Maybe he was just looking for a reason to apologize again, which makes me think that he's being genuine for a change.

I glanced at the wall clock. Noon, as I expected. They were either going out for a late breakfast or had been out since it was actually the right time to eat pancakes and waffles. I sighed and got a tea bag out of the cabinet and busied myself finding the sugar and a clean spoon.

Taking my tea back to my room, I went out on the fire escape to check the weather. It was cold, as I expected, but there was a little bit of yesterday's snow remaining.

"Mark! What are you doing out on the fire escape?" I heard Mimi call from below.

"In your pajamas, nonetheless." Collins chimed in.

I shrugged. "Just thinking, nothing more too it."

"Well get inside, you idiot kid, before you get sick. We'll be up in a minute." They all hurried up the stairs, meeting me back inside the kitchen.

"Roger tells us you have a girlfriend." Mimi sat down and batted her eyelashes at me.

"If having coffee with a member of the opposite sex qualifies as a relationship, than I have a girlfriend. Roger needs to get his story straight." I said, sitting down in a huff.

"Everyone needs an ego stroke every once in a while." He shrugged, wrapping his arms around Mimi.

"Speaking of which, we decided over breakfast to throw our pal Roger a birthday party next week," Collins laughed and mussed Roger's hair. "so you can invite your friend over for drinks and old stories."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," Roger said, putting his hands up. "Because we wouldn't want Mark's girlfriend seeing me and then realizing she fell for the wrong roommate."

Mimi punched his shoulder and feigned anger. "Excuse me, but which one of you is taken? I think inviting her is a great idea, Mark. You might want to call her now though, because it's a little rude to give someone less than five days to make plans."

"Five days? I only need five minutes." I shrugged.

"Mark, think of how long it takes me to get ready when we go out. And I'm relatively low-maintenance. You need to plan your outfit and stuff."

"Jesus, Meems. He's getting all pale now," Collins said, putting his arm around my shoulder "Do you think you'll be able to call her without passing out on us?"

"If he's getting like this before he calls, I can only imagine what he's going to do when he gets her in bed."

"Roger!" Mimi shrieked, hitting him again. "You be nice!"

I obviously had to call Anne. Right then, with everyone watching. I saw it as a lose-lose situation. I either didn't call her and get an earful from Roger about being a baby or call her and suffer through the awkward and embarrassing process of asking her out on a date.

I took the phone and now-crumpled napkin from Mimi's outstretched hand. After 3 rings, I was getting a little panicked. Even though Anne told me that she would screen, I began thinking that she only gave me her number because I asked. And that she used me for a free cup of coffee. God, I hate being used.

"Hello?" She sounded breathy and quiet.

"Hi, Anne. It's, uh, Mark. Mark Cohen." I stammered. Even though she couldn't see me, I could feel color coming to my cheeks.

"Hi Mark! How are you?" Her demeanor seemed to change instantly. Whether this was a good or bad thing, I don't know.

"I'm doing okay. And yourself?"

"Busy, but it's to be expected." She laughed a little bit.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for myself." Mimi elbowed my ribs and tried to hurry me along. "So yeah, my roommate Roger's birthday is next week and I was hoping, well not hoping but I was just thinking that you might want to come over and join us. We're just spending the night in with drinks and stuff, probably watching some old footage of Roger that he won't let see the light of day until he's drunk…" I rambled.

I heard her shuffling papers and switching of the phone. "Um, what day next week? It's not that I don't want to come or anything! I just need to make sure that everything's okay with work."

"I thought she was self-employed?" Roger whispered. His ear was practically on the phone anyway, I might as well had her on speakerphone.

"Friday night, so all our friends who have real jobs won't have to work with a hangover." I explained, trying to shrug Roger off.

"I guess I'll see you Friday then." Anne said.

After giving her directions to the loft, I managed to get a few minutes of conversation in without Roger and Mimi breathing down my neck. After hanging up, I looked around and realized that I'd have to start cleaning now if I wanted the place to look remotely presentable on Friday.

"Roger, is it at all possible for you to put your plates _in_ the dishwasher, rather than just in a heap on the counter?"

"Yes, but then you wouldn't have anything to stress about every couple of months when you actually have a friend over."

Touché, my friend. Touché.

* * *

This is my longest chapter posted yet. I was going to cut it into two different parts and then do it from Anne's perspective from when she picked up the phone but that got too complicated and confusing so I ended up just condensing it into one. Besides, if it's from her point of view I can't write about how adorable I think an embarassed Mark would be. _Le sigh._

It might take a while for the next chapter to be up. Because I've been so focused on getting out the crazy mess of scenes going on in my mind onto the computer in word form that I haven't had time to actually think of what I'm going to do for that chapter. I write everything out out of order. Always. I have the ending written already. And even part of the sequel! Yes, there will be another story with a different title and everything. Because I hate the cliche "Boy meets girl, they fall in love, have 1 fight, kiss and make up and then get married and live happily ever after" stories. I ask you: Where's the variation?

I promise things will get more interesting and less fluff in coming chapters. Do I have some drama planned for this story. Oh and ah, please.

And this is where people who review get mentioned. So if you want me to drop your name, review and you'll have a special place here and in my heart. Wow, that was cheesy. I'm sorry. But review anyway and you'll get a mention from little ol' me.

**Harper's Pixie**- Mark Cohen can bowl me down and ruin my groceries any day. Gladly. I'd even set it up if need be. I have a soft spot in my heart for the starving artist type as well. I digress... thank you for your kind words :o)

**Subia Jasmine**- Poor Mark is always neglected. I can see him stomping around the loft saying "Roger! Roger! Roger!" just like that Jan Brady.

**PrincessSparkes CaptainOats**- I hope I cleared it up. This is _Post_Rent, in case you didn't catch on. Mimi wouldn't be in the picture otherwise.

**countrybutterfly**- I'm very honored that word of my story is being passed on. That sounded really fake, but I swear it's not. It's a compliment, really! I, too, am guilty of screening. So I added a little bit of myself into Anne in the hopes that maybe a good looking film maker will run (hopefully literally) into my life.

**lost my rent**- Thanks again for the reviews. I'll try to update as often as I can for those who review constantly _hint hint nudge nudge_


	4. Chapter 4

If I owned this, would it be called _fan_fiction? I think not.

* * *

_Anne_

"Damn it!" I cursed myself for wearing such uncomfortable heels. The weather had seemed to be clearing up but as soon as I walked out the door, snow began to fall once more. Trying to maneuver around the ice patches and rock salt was difficult enough in normal shoes, let alone 4-inch stilettos.

I stumbled, mostly in the dark, because let's be honest, the streetlights in Manhattan only cast enough light for you to see the muggers once they're an inch behind you, the remaining few blocks to Mark's apartment. I wiped my feet of as much salt and slush as possible before going in, hoping that the pools of water on the concrete floor would agree with my clumsiness for once and not send me flying on my ass right before an important date.

_It's not a date. He just wanted me to have a drink and celebrate his roommate's birthday. That's all._

"No elevator?" I grumbled at the thought of trekking up a few flights of stairs, especially after the difficult trip there. But there were no doors in the lobby, just a few broken mailboxes in the wall, doors ajar, and stacks of what I assumed were old newspapers on the floor below them. The place wasn't exactly a dump, but it definitely wasn't a Four Seasons either. I debated the possibility of simply not showing up and going home, but then I knew I'd put myself through a guilt trip for standing up a sweet guy like Mark. If he was worth the walk over here in heels through snow, I could make four or five floors of stairs.

Cut to me, slightly winded but at the top floor nonetheless. I fussed with my hair for a few seconds before pressing the doorbell. No sound rang out from inside. It certainly wasn't silent, classic rock was emanating through the walls. I knocked softly, then harder. I was about to head home when the door flew open.

"Sorry Anne! I couldn't hear you knocking over the music. I was going to grab some ice, but I can send Collins or someone to get it." Mark held the door open and gestured for me to join him inside.

The loft certainly was… lofty. It was large and open, furnished with mismatched couches and more milk crates than I've ever seen outside a dairy farm.

"This is cool, Mark. Very open, lots of space." I nodded and surveyed it once more.

"It's really nothing special." Mark insisted. "Can I take your coat?"

After taking it off, I was surprised at the temperature. It felt like there was a large fire burning in front of me, but I didn't see a fireplace. "It's so warm in here, how can you be wearing a sweater?"

"I'm always cold," He cocked his head to the side and peered at me through his glasses. "Your cheeks are really rosy, did you know that?" He blushed after his random outburst, busying himself with what looked like a mini-bar on what I assumed was the kitchen table. A door behind him slammed open and a girl came rushing towards me.

"You must be Anne! I've heard such nice things about you." She exclaimed, extending her hand. "I'm Mimi."

"It's nice to meet you, Mimi." I repeated her name in the hopes of remembering it once the onslaught of introductions was finished. "I wish I could say the same about you, but I've only been out with Mark once and he didn't mention all of his roommates, only someone named Roger."

"That would be me." An attractive guy with bleached hair lugged an amp into what looked like a living room. He set it down roughly, rattling the windowpanes. "Roger Davis, nice to finally meet you."

"Anne Hayes."

He cocked his head to the side, similar to the way Mark did a few moments before. "You know, I never thought someone who was a bigger loser than Mark would be as hot as you are. Good going, Mark."

I blushed furiously and wandered over to the table where Mark was resting his head on the table. Out of embarrassment or fatigue, or maybe even both, I didn't know. But I figured I should make sure that he was okay before carrying on with the rest of the roommates.

"Your roommates seem really nice," I sat down next to him. "Quite the character, that Roger guy is."

"You should've seen him during withdrawal. He was the moodiest person I've ever encountered. It was like being in a soap opera or something, except it was only one person. Roger Davis, the Fantastic One Man Show."

"Hey! I heard that!" Roger called from his place in front of the amp. "But it's catchy, maybe I should put that on the fliers."

Mimi laughed and hugged him. "I'd think you were some bearded old man with an accordion and harmonica, so I don't think it's the best way to advertise yourself."

"No, they're cool. Very free and bohemian and it's such a breath of fresh air. They're the polar opposite of the tight-assed mathematicians I'm around every day at work." I rested my head on his arm and wrapped my arm around his waist. "Really, they're not bad. And they've been downright polite compared to other New Yorkers I've met the past few months."

"Can I interest you in a drink?" He raised his head and offered me a cup. "You name it, I can make it. Well, not White Russians. And my martini's aren't that great either."

"Do you have coffee? Because I could really go for Bailey's and some coffee. I had about three cups before I came but I'm starting to feel lethargic already." I stretched and was pleased to feel multiple vertebrae crack.

Mark handed me a steaming up of coffee and pointed to the Bailey's Irish Cream. "Add as much as you like, but not too much. My so-called friends tend to get a little rowdy when they're drunk and do things that are horrible. Their intentions aren't malicious but it always ends up looking that way."

"I'm a pretty sloppy drunk myself," I laughed "So I'll only add it for the taste rather than the desired effect."

"I had a few too many incidents our first year in the loft that I'm usually the designated driver." Mark stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Oh man, remember the time when he ended up stark naked on the balcony on New Year's Eve?" An unfamiliar voice called, followed by the door slamming.

"Collins!" Roger cried, running over and taking the bags out of his arms.

"Hey there stranger." Mimi hugged him and hung his jacket up. "You're just in time for the celebration to start."

"Where are Maureen and Joanne?" Collins asked, looking around the apartment.

"Last I heard, they got into a fight today over Maureen's nipple piercings." Mark shrugged. "Heard, meaning literally. You could've been deaf and felt the ground rumble with the way Joanne was carrying on!"

"And who's the stranger hiding behind Mark who obviously shares his love for java?" Collins asked, nudging Mark aside. "I'm Tom Collins, nice to meet you."

"Anne." I shook his hand with my free one.

"And what are you? Mark's co-worker? Film subject? _Girlfriend_?" He teased, punching Mark's shoulder playfully.

"Down, Collins. You're scaring the poor girl." Roger interjected, handing him a drink.

"A Tom Collins? You know me all too well!" He laughed, clinking the rim of his glass to mine. "To Roger Davis, may the years make him less of a self-centered, egotistical bastard."

Everyone raised their glasses. "To Roger!"

He crossed his arms and feigned anger, but he couldn't hide the huge smile on his face. Mimi offered him some of whatever was in her glass but he shook his head. "It'd be best not to temp myself, but thanks." He kissed her forehead.

"You call this a party? Honestly Roger, you're such a sucker!"

* * *

"Ugh, I don't think I can drink anything else tonight, let alone more alcohol." Collins groaned from his spot on the floor.

"I hate to break it to you, but it's not tonight anymore. More like tomorrow morning. Pancakes?" Mark smirked, holding the pan towards the mass of people on the floor.

"No thank you." He rushed off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

I tucked my legs underneath me, trying hard not to fall asleep. After Mark's warning, I ended up getting only a few minutes off of my feet the whole night. Though it was fun to watch everyone, I was still on the fringe of the group and I didn't think it would be right to just jump right into the festivities.

"Do you want some?" Mark offered me the plate. "The coffee's not ready yet."

I pulled my gaze from the frosty window. "No, I'm alright. I should probably head home anyway, I need sleep." I quickly swept the room, looking for my shoes.

"So soon? Was it really that lousy of a time?" His eyebrows knitted together in a look of confusion and, dare I say it, hurt.

"No, no!" I jumped up. Big mistake. My legs obviously weren't ready to function after standing most of the night so all I succeeded in doing was falling to the floor into a crumbled heap. "Oh man."

_He's probably going to think that I have a hangover. Which means he probably thinks that I had a lot to drink last night and that I went behind his back and drank all of his alcohol. I'm not an alcoholic though, my muscles don't respond well to sudden movements after over-exertion!_

"Are you okay?" Mark laughed, crouching down and taking my hands in his. "I know you said you were clumsy, but that was downright hilarious. I don't think I've seen a fall quite like that."

"Thanks." I muttered as he helped me off the floor.

"But you did it with poise and grace, something that I most definitely didn't expect."

Mark pulled me into a hug. It was a little awkward and unexpected, but oddly enough, I enjoyed it. He smelt good, a mixture of soap and deodorant and that little something different that was essentially his own. Even though his sweater was a little scratchy, it was too nice of a moment to pull away from.

"Are you sure you can't stay for coffee?" He pulled away a little and brushed a few stray bangs out of my eyes.

"I really have to get some sleep…" I looked over his shoulder for my shoes. "I'm falling asleep on my feet here."

He pointed to a closed door. "You can sleep here and then we can go out afterwards. Lunch at the Life?"

I thought about it for a second. It was either suffer through the walk home, not only tired but in heels or walk a few feet and get a few hours of sleep in Mark's room, completely going against my "Don't stay over until after the third date" rule.

"That sounds good." I nodded and hugged him again. "You're very hospitable, especially for a guy, you know that?"

* * *

I'm sorry if the chapters are spaced out for the next few weeks. I have a lot of AP work that I saved for the last minute. Procrastination is the only way to get things done in my opinion. This story has most definitely not been moved to the back burner, merely bumped a few down on my priority list. How do weekly updates sound? As long as the reviews keep coming, I'll be more than willing to faciliate.

**countrybutterfly**: It's alright that your review wasn't that well-rounded. A review is a review where I'm concerned. And yes, if Mark played an instrument he would be a god.

**Harper's Pixie**: I have always figured that Maureen would be a weakness for poor Mark. And that Roger, as wonderful as he seems, would give him a low blow and bring up the whole lesbian thing. So I tried to keep it as realistic, which I hope it was. I fully intend on finishing this _and_ the sequel, but my main concern is that I'm rushing into it too fast and it's going to end up being far too short and then I'll feel the need to rewrite it.

**godessofwisdom**: I don't mind stories where Mimi dies, but Mark is rarely the focus. So I figured I'd take him from the shadows and dust him of, poor guy. I'm glad you like it, though!

**msgalinda**: It's nice to know someone enjoys what they're reading. I like your screen name :o)

**Cambryn**: I'm planning on incorporating Maureen and Joanne a little bit, but Mark and Anne are really the focus of this. Those two haven't been in the past few chapters, but they'll eventually make appearences. And you don't know how nice it is to hear that you think I stuck to their personalities. All that time listening to the soundtrack the past 10 years has really paid off...

**L. M. Ward**: I sympathize. If I ever meet someone who personifies Mark Cohen Matt Caplan, maybe, I will hold on as tight as I can.

**Rock and Sarcasm**: I hope that my (straight) Mark is written as well as your slash favorites. And Mark will get broody and upset, but that's a long way away. I'd like to think it takes a lot to get him blue. Your review was very sweet and made me smile.

-Ella


	5. Chapter 5

_Anne_

The sound of a guitar being played woke me. It was quiet, probably an acoustic guitar, but loud enough that I could hear it through the walls. I folded the flannel blanket I had used and placed it on the foot of Mark's bed then looked around. I had been too tired when I first came in to give it more than a passing glance. It wasn't spectacular, nothing particularly stood out to me. It had the typical grey walls that were the standard in most apartments, except one of the walls had been plastered with posters from obscure films I hadn't heard of.

The corner by the fire escape was literally covered in film equipment and reels of film, both unused and labeled. I laughed to myself. There was no separating Mark from his cameras. From what I had heard last night from his (drunken) friends, the camera will be present even at their not-so-finest moments. Good thing I didn't drink a lot last night…

"Anne, right?" Mark's roommate was peering at me through the open door. "Come into the kitchen, we'll talk."

I must have looked skeptical because he laughed out loud. "I don't bite, I jut want to get to know you. Mark never divulges much information about his lady friends."

I followed him into the kitchen and he set a mug in front of me. "So what did you want to know? Anything in particular?"

"Well, I did learn that you're a CPA. And I'll tell you the truth, I laughed my ass off."

"Excuse me?" I glared at him and gripped the mug tighter.

"I never thought that Mark would find someone with a geekier job. I mean, filmmaking isn't awful, but being an accountant pretty much takes the cake. Coffee or tea?" He had a cheeky smile plastered on his face so I couldn't tell whether or not he was joking.

"Coffee, please. And I thought you didn't know how to make anything? At least that's what Mark has told me."

"Touché." Roger laughed. "But I _do_ know how to make coffee. Canned soup is my specialty, can I tempt you with some of that?"

Even if he was an asshole, he was charismatic and witty. But not my type in the least. "Thanks, but I'm not really hungry right now."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged and hit a few buttons on the coffee machine. He looked as if he was about to say something else but we were interrupted by the loft door opening.

"Hey, you're awake?" Mark hung his coat up and jammed his hands into his jeans. "I was just ran out and I forgot to tell you and I felt bad because if you woke up I figured it would be extremely awkward for you, especially with Roger here and how he has the tendency to grill my girlfriends. Not that you're my girlfriend or anything! You're just a friend who happens to be a girl and I don't have many of those, at least straight ones, so I just assumed Roger would… oh... shit." Mark's face turned a brilliant shade of red and he became very interested with his shoes.

"No, Anne and I were just talking." Roger poured hot water into a mug and tossed a tea bag Mark's way.

"_Talking_… sure, Roger." Mark turned his back to Roger and whispered "Do you want to go out? Just take a walk, you know?"

I nodded. "That'd be nice. Thanks for the coffee, Roger. And the talk was nice too."

He gave me a knowing smile and winked.

Mark and I bundled up on our way down the stairs. The air outside wasn't much warmer than the stairwell, much to my obvious disdain. "I hate this weather. I don't mind the cold, but it's the slush and snow that bothers me."

He laughed and offered me his arm. "Snow is great to film though. Even if you have the best tech crew in the history of film, fake snow never cuts it."

A not-so-awkward silence followed for a few minutes.

"I'm really sorry about Roger." He turned to me "He does that to all of my girlfriends. Or friends of the opposite sex, which are few and far between. It's a sport to him, really. A source of never ending entertainment."

"You know, you always look so damn apologetic. You could kill somebody and they wouldn't be able to send you to jail because you actually _look_ sorry!" He blushed. That's something Mark does a lot. "But if it wasn't for your awkward and geeky tendencies, I wouldn't find you half as alluring or charismatic as I do."

"I'm less than charismatic, but thanks anyway. I'll give you credit for a good delivery and sincerity."

"You know I value honesty," I sighed "So would I ever lie to you, even if it was to spare your masculinity? Or your pride?"

There he goes, blushing again as another silence followed. We ended up walking for quite a while, into the depths of Central Park. It was oddly tranquil and comfortable, just walking arm in arm with Mark through the city. I didn't feel pressured to make conversation or even do anything. And I liked that. But Mark decided it had gone long enough.

"I really wish I had brought my camera," he mumbled "Central Park is great for people watching. There's always the best people here and I get the obscure characters I need for my films. And with the snow, it makes all these special effects that I could never re-create on my computer, no matter how hard I tried and how advanced my software was." He glanced at me and caught my blank face. "I'm sorry, I always end up going off onto some tangent and speaking in strange tongues."

"Yes, I don't completely understand what you're saying. But I can appreciate your love of film. Just the way you talk about it, the look you get. I can tell you're really passionate about it." I laced my fingers though his and gave his hand a little squeeze.

"I can't believe how far away we are from the loft." He replied, pointing towards the street. "We're all the way down by the Museum of Natural History."

I nodded in agreement. "I think we should do this every week. Just walk to Central Park, talk, and get coffee from street vendors. It just feels right."

"Now about that coffee, would you rather go to Starbucks? Because I know there's one around here somewhere and I've been wanting coffee with caramel for a while and there's no way in hell Roger would ever let me even enter the loft with one."

"Starbucks it is. I'm sure I can find something with enough whipped cream and chocolate to satisfy my sudden craving for something sweet. Screw coffee, I'm looking for hot cocoa." I laughed and tugged him towards an exit.

"We could save ourselves twenty dollars and go make coffee and hot chocolate back home." Mark said, turning in the direction of the loft.

"But that wouldn't be half as fun. And you know as well as I do that we'd end up stopping at the Life because of the temperature and I can only stand so many seedy cups of coffee a week."

Mark smiled and pulled me across the street to find the nearest coffee shop.

* * *

Mark and Anne are basically two love birds in one hell of an awkward nest. And that's exactly the way I like it. I was worried that my Roger seemed a little out-of-character, so tell me what you think of his portrayal. I've been writing a specific way far in the future chapter from his point of view so I'm hoping to improve where he and Mimi are concerned. Just a note, this story focuses mainly on Mark and Anne's relationship, but I will try to integrate some Roger and Mimi in there as well, only because they life with Mark. Maureen and Joanne will make their appearences... eventually.

I'm sorry that it's taking so long for me to get these posted. I really have no excuse other than the AP work that's has taken over my life and will remain for the next two or so weeks. I'll try my best to keep the chapters coming as constant as I can, because consistency is important. Otherwise, what's the point? Don't forget to review and tell me what you liked, disliked, and want to see more of!

-Ella

**JacksTortugaLass**: Lovely review. And yes, Anne did get to sleep in his bed but there was no hanky-panky going on. At least not now ;o)

**Harper's Pixie**: Thanks for being a constant reviewer! It means a lot that you're interested enough to keep coming back for more.

**L.M. Ward**: I've always, always wanted to write crazy party scenes with a drunken Roger, but I thought it'd be best to save the crazy, sometimes even mean and rude, drunk Roger for later on when I need some drama. Or when my Maureen the Drama Queen scenes don't come out as planned.

**Marky'sLilPixie**: I wanted to stray away from the typical RENTfiction mold and throw poor Mark a bone. He's always alone. Or with Roger. And I like Mimi enough to keep her in the picture.

**countrybutterfly**: I'm glad you liked the comparison. You have to admit, Roger _does_ live quite the soap opera life.


	6. Chapter 6

_Mark_

I was woken up by a soft, but persistent, knocking on the loft door. I figured it was nothing, but when it got faster and seemingly frantic, I grabbed my glasses off the milk crate, my makeshift bedside table, and hurried to the door, silently cursing our lack of a peep-hole. I cracked open the door and squinted through the darkness.

"Anne, is that you?"

"I'm sorry, Mark. I was walking home and I just felt so sick and your apartment is closer than mine." She was breathing heavily and I could see a faint layer of sweat on her pale face. "I hope you don't mind…"

"No, no! Not at all, come in." I opened the door wider and wrapped am arm around her waist. "What's wrong?"

"I… don't know. My stomach is cramping really bad and I'm getting lightheaded." She panted.

I started to pull off her coat but she held on to it tightly. "I'm so cold, please."

"Here, let's just get you to lie down. Come to my room." I pointed towards the open door.

"I feel bad, what about Roger?" I thought she seemed too weak to protest, but I was wrong.

"I'll tell him once I get you situated. Come on." I sturdied her with both arms and guided her into my room. After she was lying down, I felt her forehead. "Anne, you're a little warm. Let me get you some water." I went to tell Roger the little I knew about what was going on.

"Hey, Rog? Mimi?" I pushed his door open a little bit. "Anne's here and she seems pretty sick. She doesn't want you to catch anything so until I know for sure what's wrong, don't come into my room."

He stirred a bit and then looked up at me. "Is she vomiting or is she coughing and sneezing? Because if it's the flu or a cold, Mimi and I have to get out."

"I don't really know. Her forehead was hot and she says her stomach is killing her." I explained, trying to keep my voice down and not wake Mimi.

"Oh alright. Just wake us if you need anything." Roger replied, his voice still thick with sleep.

I closed the door to their bedroom tightly and hurried to get a cold glass of water and some Advil.

"Here, take these." I sat down next to her and offered the pills and cup.

Anne was on her side, clutching a pillow tightly to her stomach, to the point where her knuckles were white. Tears were streaming down her face. I set the glass down on the floor and leaned over her.

"Are you alright?" I asked, feeling a little panicked myself.

_Good question, Mark. She's obviously not okay if she's keeled over on your bed in pain._

"I've never had cramps this bad before." She managed to choke out, followed quickly by a moan.

I stroked her hair off her sweaty forehead and gave it a quick kiss. Is it possible for it to feel hotter than it was no less than a minute ago?

"Do you want Tylenol?" I reached for the glass.

"I don't want… throw up in a few minutes." Her breathing was heavy and labored.

"Do you want to get to the bathroom?" I ask

She nodded and I helped her up and across the loft.

As soon as I closed the door, I heard her empty her stomach. "Better go tell Roger."

I pushed his door open and shook his shoulder. "You might want to consider leaving. She's in the bathroom getting sick."

He nodded and crawled over to Mimi, kissing her and whispering softly. "Anne's sick and she and Mark don't want us to catch anything. Do you want to go to Maureen and Joanne's for a while?"

I closed the door and got back to the bathroom. Anne was still throwing up so I put a cold washcloth across her neck with one hand and rubbed her back with the other. After the wave of nausea passed, she slumped back onto the tub with her eyes closed.

I brushed the hair that was plastered to her forehead away. "Do you think it's food poisoning? Have you eaten any seafood or sushi lately?"

Anne shook her head. "I hate fish." Her voice was a raspy croak.

"Do you think you're done… in here?" I didn't want to outright say vomit because it never makes you feel better about throwing up.

Her only answer was another moan as she grabbed her stomach once more. Before she clenched her eyes tightly closed, I saw the fear and the tears threatening to fall. I put one arm around her shoulders and the other underneath her knees. I grunted and hoisted her off of the tiled floor, carrying her back into my bedroom. I took her coat off and tossed it into the corner, making a mental note to get it washed as soon as possible.

Anne was still holding her stomach, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mark, we're heading to Mo and Jo's." Roger said as he opened the bedroom door.

He took one look at Anne, eyes wide, and pulled me roughly by my arm out of the room.

"Mark, what the fuck is wrong with her? That's no stomach bug or flu." He shook his head. "You might want to call a doctor because that looks _bad_. And whatever it is, I don't think you can rely on your limited medical expertise to cure it."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Roger?" I hissed. "Obviously something's really wrong with her. And I'm not going to just let her keep puking up a lung and sobbing."

"If you need anything, _anything_ Mark, I mean it- call us." Mimi added.

I nodded and ushered them out, trying to ignore the feeling of impending doom that was settling in my stomach. I hurried back to my room. "Anne, I think we should get you to a hospital. Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head frantically. The tears streaming down her face fell faster and what little color was left began to drain. "No! No, please don't!"

Against my own better judgment, I crawled in next to her. "I don't want this to get worse than it is now. What if it's serious? I really don't want to risk something bad happening."

Her scared look softened. "Alright," her voice was hoarse and quiet. "Call."

I grabbed the phone off the charger and called for an ambulance. After speaking to the emergency operator and being reassured that an ambulance would be here in less than 10 minutes, I felt even more panicked than before. This could be bad.

A knock on the door alerted me to the EMS. With little difficulty, they soon had Anne up and wrapped in one of the sterile white blankets. As we had our way down the four flights of stairs, I came to the realization that Anne hadn't given me numbers to call. Not her family or her insurance. Nobody.

One of the men put his hand on my chest "Family only in the ambulance, I'm sorry."

"Mark! Please, let him come!" Anne cried, struggling against the EMS workers.

"Miss, if he's not your fiancée or a family member, he's not allowed in the ambulance." He said, holding Anne's shoulder down.

"Mark has to come!" She cried. Her breathing was quick but heavy, her chest heaving up and down. "He _has_ to!"

"She's hyperventilating- get me a Valium!" One of the doctors called.

"Would it count if I said I was as close to family as you're going to get?"

He shook his head and slammed the heavy door.

* * *

I hesitated before lifting the black receiver. Even though they said to call them with whatever I found out, I still was skeptical. 

"Hello?" A groggy female voice said.

"Hi, Maureen. It's Mark." I took my glasses off and put them down on top of the payphone.

"Roger and Meems told us what happened to Anne. How is she? Hold on a second, I'm putting you on speaker. We're all awake anyway." The phone made some funny noises before I heard the hustle and bustle of her apartment.

"So what are the newest developments?" Mimi asked. "Have the doctors figured out what was wrong?"

"It's so crazy, you're not even going to believe it. Seriously, it's _that_ odd." I gave a slightly bitter laugh and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"Well…?" Roger was impatient and nosy.

"From what I've been told, they think she had a severe reaction to a new prescription." I explained, fooling around with my glasses.

_Please, please don't ask what type of medicine._

"Like an anti-depressant? Because I've heard that people can get really messed up when they switch prescriptions. What kind was it?" Maureen asked.

Leave it to Maureen to read my mind, the uncanny talent she was able to do even when we were dating. She's always been able to pick up on the one thing I never wanted to share.

"The doctor mentioned something about uh… birth control." I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh my god!" Mimi gasped. "That sounds awful!"

Much to my surprise, Roger remained quiet. "But she's going to be okay, right? No damage?"

"The doctors say she's going to be fine, but they're not positive it's from that. I have to take her back if she feels sick at all within the next 72 hours. I'm going to take her home in a few minutes though, she's getting dressed." I answered, putting my glasses back on.

"I think Roger and I are going to stay put for the rest of the morning." Mimi said, stifling a huge yawn. "I have to work tomorrow and I'm beat."

"If you want to get some sleep, Maureen and I could come up for a couple hours and keep an eye on Anne. Even though we haven't formally met her, it's the least we could do." Joanne offered.

"Thanks for offering, Jo. I might take you up on that, depending on how the next couple hours go." I said. Anne shuffled into the hall and rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm taking Anne home now, so I'll see you guys in a couple hours or so."

After a chorus of "Bye Mark!" I hung the phone up.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Absolutely miserable. These are the worst cramps I've ever had, even with the prescription. And the Valium they gave me earlier is making me think far too clearly for my own good." She returned the hug and buried her face in my jacket.

I leaned down to kiss her forehead but she tipped her face up to me, her lips meeting mine. We had discussed intimacy a couple days previous. Both of us were comfortable enough around one another from the start to hug and kiss freely, among other things, but sex had been the topic du jour. Both of us ended up looking at the floor with red faces after admitting our virginity. But we knew where the line was and it wasn't going to be toed, at least for the time being.

* * *

"Last step." I said, helping her up the last step. We decided that it was easiest to just take a taxi back to the loft because it was cheaper and we'd only have to go up four flights of stairs, rather than eight. 

I unlocked the door and unwrapped us both from my coat, taking notice that the red light on the answering machine was flashing. I pressed it and pulled Anne towards the couch. "I'll go get extra blankets and pillows so we can sleep here."

"Mark, it's mom." My mother's shrill voice echoed through the empty apartment. "I got a call from my friend Barb at the hospital. The one who's daughter is marrying the professor from Brown? She said that she saw you there with a young lady who was really sick. I was just calling to see if everything is alright and to make sure you haven't caught… anything. I'm worried about your health, Mark. You've been getting so thin! Call me back as soon as you get this- your father and I are very concerned! Love you!"

Anne laughed softly. "Is she hinting that you caught some heinous STD? Because that's what I got out of it."

"Probably." I replied sheepishly, tossing a few blankets and pillows to her. "Ever since I told her about Roger being positive, she's been paranoid that I'll catch it from him. As much as I explain that HIV isn't communicable, she still thinks that if he coughs on me that it's the kiss of death."

Anne scooted over on the couch. "At least she shows that she cares."

I covered us both with multiple blankets and propped myself up with a pillow. "Yeah, but sometimes she cares a little bit too much and gets invasive."

"Mmm hmm." Anne murmured, snuggling into my chest. Her breathing was getting slow and steady.

I flicked the table light off and closed my eyes, returning to the same sleep that had been interrupted by earlier.

* * *

Two updates in less than twenty five hours! I'm on fire! 

So how was that for dramatic? And I know it seems like everything is all well and good where Anne's health is concerned, but boy- you couldn't be more wrong! Don't worry, no terminal illnesses here. That's too depressing and I feel guilty killing someone Mark is close to off. I guess it's my conscience telling me that it's bad karma to do something like that.

I'm hoping this will tide you off until this time next week, which gives me a pretty good amount of time to do AP work and write Chapter 7. I have a couple ideas but I'd **really** like to know what you'd like to see. Yes, **you**. I'm not writing this just for myself. So any input as to where you think it's going and the direction I should take it would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and if you'd like, my LiveJournal is on the 'Homepage' link so you can add me as a friend if you wish. Just leave a comment telling me who you are or what you're known by here. I'd get quite confused otherwise.

Because I'm posting this so soon after the previous chapter, I'll address all reviews after Chapter 7. Thanks to everyone who's still reading and reviewing at this point. And for the love of humanity, please review!


	7. Chapter 7

_Anne_

"Mark, coffee's ready!" I called from the kitchen. Even though it was about nine o'clock in the evening, we always found time for coffee. Especially at the wrong times of day.

"I need to call my mom back and reassure her that I'm not sick. It's been three days, she's probably shitting bricks. " He took a deep breath and punched her number into the phone. "Hi, Mom. It's Mark."

Even from my spot by the table, I could hear her squawking at Mark all the way from Scarsdale.

"No, Mom. I'm not sick. My friend Anne had a bad allergic reaction to some prescription and I took her to the hospital. She's not my girlfriend. I don't need to justify my relationships to you. Yeah, maybe. We'll see. Bye." He slammed the phone down. "She wants you to come visit this weekend. Cindy and the kids are coming down too and I guess she thought that was an incentive."

I handed him a cup of coffee and sat down on the threadbare couch next to him. "Isn't it a bit early for me to be meeting your parents? We're just…" I trailed off.

"I know what you mean. We're together but not _together_. I've only taken you on one real date." Mark said, sipping the scalding liquid.

"It's hot!"

He grimaced. "I know."

"Hey Mark? I have a question." I tugged at a loose thread in my jeans.

"Shoot." He set the cup down on a milk crate and turned towards me.

"I know that you and Maureen have a… history together. But from what Roger's told me, she's quite the sexpot. How did you, I mean, why didn't you two… _you know_."

"Have sex?" He sighed, obviously knowing that the question would have to be answered sooner or later. "We had been together for a couple of months, I think it was eight or nine. Basically, we'd done everything but. And we were fooling around one night and this close to actually doing it, and I mean half-naked-reaching-for-the-condoms close, and she just blurts out that she thinks she may be a lesbian."

"Must've totally killed the mood," I laughed. "But Roger said that she broke your heart."

He nodded, looking a little more than melancholy. "That she did. But after we all got to know Joanne, I guess I got over her."

"You only guess?" I asked, shooting him a quizzical look.

"It's complicated." Mark shifted uncomfortably. "Sure, getting over a girlfriend is easy. But coming to terms with the fact that she left you for another woman? That's fucked up."

I scooted down the couch and he pulled me onto his lap, taking care not to spill my coffee over the both of us.

"The things that went through my mind those first few days after were shitty. It was a blow to my masculinity. Roger always said that regardless of why your significant other leaves, it's always going to make you feel insecure about yourself and your abilities."

"Mark," I said, making sure he was looking at me. "I'm not going to be able to knock your abilities until we actually do anything so you're safe from criticism for the time being."

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face to mine; giving him what I hoped was a masculinity-reassuring kiss.

He smiled against my lips and ran his fingers through my hair, gently tugging the elastic out of it and playing with the curls. Mark pulled away a few minutes later, his chest heaving and breathing a little heavier than I expected. "What's your middle name?"

"What kind of question is that?" I laughed, cupping his face in my hands.

"I've always thought it's nice to know someone's middle name before they stick their tongue halfway down my throat."

"Well it's Catherine. How about you?"

"Elijah. But Catherine? That's so boring when your name is just Anne." His hands, which had previously been resting on my hips were now waving around madly as he spoke.

"Anne is short for Anastasia. I hate it."

"Why not Stacy? Or Anna?" He asked, wrapping a curl around his finger.

"Because I liked Anne. It was sophisticated and it grows with me." I replied, hoping that a kiss would stop the interrogation.

Mark jerked his head away from me as the door to the loft slammed.

"Mark, if your girlfriend is going to straddle you, can you not do it in a place where everyone can see it?" Roger's voice interrupted us.

Mark groaned quietly and dropped his head back. "Fuck off, Roger." He straightened out again and grabbed my hand. "It's times like these I wish I didn't have roommates."

"Want to spend the rest of the evening at my place? We can watch movies and make popcorn and shit." I asked.

"That'd be great." He helped me into my coat and grabbed his own from the closet. We trudged down the four floors ready to brave the weather and city streets past dark.

After a couple of minutes in the snow, I was shivering. "What's the purpose of a coat if it doesn't keep you warm?" I muttered.

Mark laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "So you have to be taught the fine art of buying a coat that will outlast a New England winter."

I nodded and rested my head against the worn shoulder of his coat. "I'm glad I only live a couple blocks away. It would really suck otherwise." I fumbled around with my keys and the four locks once we got to my door. Mark gave me a funny look. "No doorman, you know? It was the one condition my dad set."

"Avenue B isn't the safest place to live." He shrugged and helped me push the heavy door open.

"Home, sweet home." I tossed my keys and jacket onto the counter. "I'll give you the not-so-grand tour in a minute. I really, _really_ have to go to the bathroom.

He nodded and put his coat next to mine.

"Just make yourself at home. The coffee pot is on the counter and the coffee is in the freezer if you want to make a fresh pot." I added, closing the bathroom door behind me. When I was washing up, I heard footsteps going down the hall. I opened the door, water still dripping off my hands, to see Mark. He had a devious smirk on his face, despite being caught red handed.

"Can I see your room?" Mark asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Sure, you perv. I saw yours, it's only fair." I grabbed a hand towel and guided Mark into my room.

"A bed, a dresser, and some bookshelves. That's it?" He asked, lifting up a few of the pillows.

"What were you expecting? Leather, lace, and chains?" I laughed.

"I don't know..." Mark shrugged. "This just isn't the way I pictured your room being. It's really boring. No offense." He added as he flopped down onto the bed. "Ooh, your blanket _and_ pillows are down? We're spending a lot more time here from

"I'm a CPA, what do you expect?" I smiled and pulled open my closet. "I'm changing into something more comfortable than this."

Mark raised his eyebrows at me and the smirk returned once again. "More comfortable, eh?"

"Pajamas, Mark." I shook my head. "Just pajamas. Not everything is like in the movies, or at least the sick one that's always running through your mind." I pulled my shirt off and tossed it into the laundry bin and rummaged around my closet for a shirt to wear.

"Um… I'll, uh, go wait in the other room." Mark stammered, blushing a brilliant red.

I rolled my eyes. "You would've seen me half-naked eventually. Let's just cross this bridge now that we're at it." My jeans joined my shirt and I pulled on a pair of flannel bottoms and a tank top.

"Movies are in the bottom drawer of the TV stand. How about you pick one and I'll make popcorn?" I suggested, shooing Mark away from my bureau.

_More like away from my underwear._

"As long as there's something other than cheesy romantic comedies, I'm sure I'll find something."

He opened the cupboard as I put the popcorn in the microwave. When it finished, I sat down on the couch next to him to see what he picked.

"I ended up going with Rear Window." He said. "I'm a sucker for the way Hitchcock aligned his shots."

I offered him some popcorn as the movie began.

* * *

"Mark, you need to get home." I said against his lips, trying to squirm away from him. 

"It's not even midnight." He insisted, snaking his hand back up my tank top and firmly attaching his lips on mine.

My struggle was in vain so I just gave in and ran my fingers through his hair. Mark tugged at the hem and I helped him pull it off. We continued for a few more minutes, undoing and removing select pieces of clothing. "Do you want to go to my room?"

He nodded and we scrambled off of the couch and into my room.

I pulled him onto my bed with me, fumbling with his glasses.

"Mmm… Anne?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Yeah?" I replied, trying to catch my breath.

"If we're going to go to my parents' house this weekend, sex is out of the question." He pushed some hair off of my face and kissed me. "You'll be sore and cranky and my mom would wonder why you couldn't sit still."

"Who said we were going to Scarsdale?" I asked, wiggling out from under him. "And how do you know so much about sex? You're supposed to be a virgin!"

"Maureen subscribed to Cosmopolitan and I'd flip through when she was getting ready." Even in the dim lighting, I could tell he was blushing. "It's really trashy."

"Do you want to sleep here or go back to your place?" I asked, snuggling into him. Despite my state of undress, Mark had managed to keep both his sweater and oxford on.

"You have down pillows and heat. Do I need to say more?" He asked, pulling the comforter around us. "Goodnight."

I woke up to the smell of something sweet coming from the kitchen and the occasional clunk of a pan.

"You can cook?" I asked, shuffling into the kitchen.

"Roger is an adult, but he's not fully functioning. And Mimi would probably burn the place down if she tried to make anything but Jell-o. So that leaves me to either waste money on takeout or cook."

"You made cinnamon buns!" I exclaimed. "I think I'll keep you."

"So about Scarsdale…" He began, handing me a cup of juice. "You don't _have_ to come. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into anything. But it would be nice to not have to brace my mom alone."

"I'm not doing anything this weekend. But what are we going to tell her? I know my dad wouldn't be too happy if I brought home some guy I'd been dating for less than a month. I don't want her to get the wrong impression of me…"

"Anne, the last girl I took home was Maureen. She was a _shiksa_, you're Jewish. You're intelligent and beautiful and I'm sure my mom is going to love you." He insisted, offering a plate of bacon.

"_Bacon_! Are you trying to sway my decision with my favorite foods?" I asked with a laugh.

"Only if it's working." Mark grinned.

I nodded. "Alright, I'll go. But I'm not making any promises as to whether or not she can expect Jewish grandbabies in less than a year. No way!"

He kissed me across the table. "I wouldn't even put it past you."

* * *

I finished the two most dramatic chapters of the story yet. Too bad they're the final two and I haven't written what goes in between them. It just happens to be one of those things that I'll read afterwards and think "Holy hell! _I_ wrote _that_?" I can't wait to put it up because I think everyone will be really, really surprised. It's a big, shocking chapter with a big, even more shocking follow up. 

So this chapter was a lot of Mark and Anne fluff. Get over it, they're cute. Don't you enjoy seeing Mark happy? Because I do. Mark will be happier after he gets some much-needed ass as well. Up next: Anne and Mark go to Scarscale and meet Mama Cohen. Oy, this should be quite fun.

**L.M. Ward**: Mark and Anne are a pretty awkward couple. They blush a lot. And I like to write Roger as a little more mature than he's usually given credit for. He's not twelve, people! I think I'm writing my dream man into my Mark. Sad, but true.

**starsinthesky**: I made Mark a virgin for a reason, explained in this chapter. In my twisted mind that's always how I ended up seeing it happen. Maureen's wandering eyes are caught by Mark so she tries to seduce him and then blurts out that she's gay. Oops!

**Harper's Pixie**: I'm out to prove that you can write RENTfic that's _not_ depressing and still enjoyable! So Anne will not be dying. That goes for Roger, Mimi and the rest of the cast. I'd feel guilty killing off poor Mark's soulmate, lonely boy.

**countrybutterfy**: What do you mean by "wise"? Wise as in smartass or intelligent? And my Roger isn't violent. Post-drug Roger is nice and doesn't hit poor Mark for disturbing his beauty sleep. And remember- there's not enough in the loft to be thrown that would result in a loss of limb. But thanks for the constructive criticism, quas-negative reviews are sometimes better than positive ones because they allow you to see where your weaknesses are.

It would really be nice to have 35 reviews when I post Chapter 8. That's only **six** more than I have right now. So please, tell me what you like and dislike.


	8. Chapter 8

_Mark_

"Are you nervous?" I asked. We had been sitting in the car for about fifteen minutes, just parked outside my childhood home. A split-level on a suburban street, complete with a garden gnome by the front steps. It was just a night with Anne and my mom yet I felt like I was being lead to my last meal.

Anne bit her lip and the color had drained from her face. "No… of course not." Her hand was hanging limply in my own.

I gave hers a squeeze. "My parents are just two regular Jews living in Scarsdale. Completely approachable but not necessarily normal." I lead her up the walk and knocked on the door, taking a deep breath. "Here goes."

My mom could've torn the door from its hinges, she opened it so fast. "Mark!" She screeched "Come over here and give your mother a kiss!"

I blushed and quickly hugged her, not letting go of Anne's hand. "Hi Mom. This is my girlfriend, Anne Hayes."

My mom's face went blank except for a sour, pursed mouth. "I'm Hannah. Nice to meet you."

Anne extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Cohen."

My mom gave her the once over before shaking her hand. That's when the questions began flying. "What do you do for a living, Anne?"

"I'm an accountant."

My mom raised her eyebrows, her face painted in a mask of confusion and surprise. "Oh really? And where did you get your degree?"

"University of Connecticut. Nothing fancy but it gets the job done." She replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"And are you currently employed?"

_For Christ's sake Mom, she's going to be running for the hills and we've only been here 45 seconds._

"Yes, I manage funds for a few brokers on Wall Street. I also do a lot of tax work in the spring, but none at the moment."

My mother nodded, pleased by this answer. "Now let's not stand outside, you'll catch a cold Mark! You're all skin and bones now. Have you been eating enough?"

"Mom, stop." I said through clenched teeth.

"What dear? You're just so skinny!" She exclaimed, holding the door open for us. "Make yourselves at home. Your father was supposed to come over today but then he got tied up in something or another at work so it looks like it's just the three of us until Cindy gets here."

I hung both of our coats up and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "So… what's for dinner?"

"I'm making pot roast and mashed potatoes. Unless you'd rather have latkes, in which case I can do those too." My mom answered, tying an apron around her waist.

"Whatever's easiest." I shrugged and turned to Anne. "Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"Sure." Some of the color was returning to her face, which was good.

"Mom, I'm going to show Anne around the house." I called into the kitchen.

"Take your shoes off first!" Mrs. Cohen replied.

I shook my head and sighed. "Don't worry about her- she just wants to make sure I marry a nice girl that she approves of."

Anne looked petrified.

_Come on, say something to lighten the mood!_

"Want to see my old room?"

She grinned and seemed to become a little less tense. "Of course!"

I lead her up the stairs, trying to stand in the way of the obnoxious portraits hanging on the wall leading upwards. My mother's photographic documentation of my teenage years was not something I took pride in.

"Wow, your family seems so normal." She ran her fingers across one particular family picture, taken when I was about thirteen.

"We're anything but. You know pictures lie." I opened the door to my room. "Come on in."

Anne looked around. "Typical boy's bedroom. Beige walls, plaid comforter, and a desk with nothing on it."

She got a mischievous look as she opened a couple drawers. "The obligatory stash of porn, carefully hidden under a stack of catalogs."

"Hey!" I slammed it shut and felt my face get hot. "Everybody had them."

"You certainly have a lot of pictures on that one wall." She squinted to make out what was in them. "Did you take all of these?" She asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Before I got my own camera I stuck to regular photography."

"Mark, these are beautiful. What's this one of right here?" She pointed to a black and white one in the corner, almost covered with overlapping edges of other pictures.

"That's my secret spot. I'll show it to you if you want." I answered.

"I'd like that." Anne smiled, a genuine smile that I hadn't seen since before we left.

"Mom, we're going for a walk." I called into the kitchen before grabbing our coats.

"But where are you-" I slammed the door before she could finish.

"If I learned one thing as a teenager, the less information you give her the better off you'll be." I explained, carefully wrapping my scarf around my neck.

"Tell me about your neighbors." Anne linked her gloved hand with my own. "Or are they all too boring to even want to know about?"

"Well, the Gallaghers lived there." I pointed to the green ranch across the street. "They had a daughter who I went to school with from kindergarten until graduation."

Anne raised her eyebrows. "Former flame?"

"I wish. Sam was the exact opposite of me, at least when we were teenagers. Popular, cheerleader, you know how that is. She was gorgeous." I said.

"And?"

"Well, she ended up getting pregnant halfway through senior year and last I heard she was shipped off to live with some great-aunt in Illinois." I explained, kicking some snow with the toe of my shoe. "Everyone else either elderly or dead, replaced with new people I haven't bothered to get to know."

"Did you hate high school?" Anne asked quietly.

"It was a nightmare." I sighed. "I hated it so, so much. I couldn't wait to get out and go to college."

"You always struck me as the type that had a close group of friends. Not popular by any means, but with enough friends." Anne replied.

"I had Roger. But even he was flighty. I think, no I know that he felt bad for me at first, but eventually he stopped caring what the rest of the school thought of them once he learned that he could kick almost anyone's ass. We got close and ended up in the loft together."

"You know that makes you sound like lovers." Anne nudged my ribs with a laugh.

"We get that a lot. For the most part, Roger's always had a girl on his arm so it's never actually looked like we're together or anything. Turn right and we're almost there."

"This is where you ran away too? _This_?" She pointed.

"Yeah." I nodded sheepishly. "It's not a lot, but something about it was comforting."

The swing set had long since passed its peak, but it was the same hidden spot I had frequented for almost twelve years. The pine trees had become even more overgrown, hiding the alcove even more than the last time I had visited.

She sat down on a swing and beckoned me to do the same. "We're really boring, you know that?" She laughed.

"I know." I smiled and tugged one of her curls. "But we can only be ourselves."

I leaned in for a kiss but Anne ducked and tucked a handful of snow down the back of my shirt. "Shit!"

She jumped up and laughed, heading back towards the street. I packed a snowball and tossed it at her, missing by a mile.

"Mark, that was sad." She bent over and prepared another one. "_I _can do better than that."

"So I take it this means war?" I asked, just as she pelted the white lump at me.

By the time we made it back to the house, both of us had suffered more than our fair share of hits and misses and were soaked to the bone.

"Look at the mess you're making on my wood floor!" My mom chided, coming out of the kitchen. The ring of the doorbell interrupted us. "Is anybody home?"

"Cindy!" I heard my mother scream. "How are you dear?"

Anne and I were soon pushed to the side in the chaos.

"If it isn't my wayward little brother." Cindy laughed. "How have you been, Mark?"

"Warmer and dryer, but alright." I gave her a quick hug. "Where are the kids?"

She pulled her coat and scarf off. "Any and Thomas both have fevers so I figured it was best not to bring any of them, especially if you were here I'd feel awful if you brought the germs back and your roommate got sick." She paused, putting a hand on my arm. "How's he doing?"

"Roger? He's doing fine. Clean for almost two years now and his T-cell count is high." I answered.

My mother got that sour look on her face again the minute Roger was mentioned. She had never taken a liking to him, even after he saved my ass so many times in high school. Before she could say anything negative, Cindy noticed Anne. "I'm Cindy."

"Anne. It's nice to meet you."

"You two must be freezing. How about mom and I finish with dinner so you can shower and get changed into something dry?" She suggested.

_Remind me again why I hated her during high school?_

"Afterwards I can show you old pictures and yearbooks. Mark was such a loser back then." Cindy laughed and playfully shoved my shoulder.

Anne stifled a laugh. "Let's just go get changed. My teeth are chattering."

We shed our coats and tossed them in the laundry room on our way back upstairs. I grabbed two towels from the linen closer and lead Anne to the bathroom. "The shower's kind of tricky," I explained. "Hot is cold and cold is hot."

"Your sister seems really nice." Anne said. "You don't know how relieved I am that she didn't grill me like your mom did."

"Did I apologize on her behalf yet?" I asked.

"It's alright. Her intentions were pure." She hugged me. "Do you want first shower?"

I shook my head. "Why waste water?"

"Mark, I don't think your mom would be overjoyed to find out we showered together in _her_ house only hours after I met her. Use some common sense. Do you want to go first or not? Because you know how long I take…" She squeezed my waist and took of the towels. "You snooze you lose, bud. I'll be out in five minutes."

Post shower, we ended up in my room wearing only underwear, searching for clothing. "I leave a few things here just in case I ever spend an extra day. Just look in my closet and I'll check the drawers."

A shower of clothing rained down the minute Anne opened the doors. "Bingo."

"Just find something that looks like it'll fit." I said, pulling a t-shirt and a pair of cords from the mess.

"Or something that my underwear won't show through. Is all of your clothing this worn?" Anne asked, holding up a threadbare Oxford.

"Wear that." I insisted, pulling it out of her hands. "If there's one thing I love, it's when women wear men's button downs."

She gave me a weird look and tossed it on the bed. "I'll consider it." Returning her attention to the pile of clothing at our feet she pulled out a pair of jeans. "I don't think I'll be able to fit into any of your pants. I bet you're skinnier than I am."

"Nah." I shook my head. "Just get dressed in whatever you want. I'm sure they're beginning to wonder if we're ever going to come down now."

Anne pulled on the jeans and reached over for the Oxford. "I'm only wearing this for time's sake, you know that right?"

"And you look fantastic." I planted a kiss on her forehead and hurried back downstairs for dinner.

"Well, here they are! We were about to come get you two." My mom exclaimed, setting a dish of food down on the table. "Come sit down before everything gets cold."

"Everything looks delicious, Mrs. Cohen. It's been so long since I've had a meal like this." Anne said, placing her napkin gingerly on her lap.

"Oh really? Are you not much of a cook?" My mom asked, obviously enjoying this flaw.

"You could say that," Anne laughed. "When I have dinner with my dad what he makes hardly qualifies as food. But Mark has obviously learned from one of the best because he makes a mean breakfast."

"She actually considers instant oatmeal edible." I snorted, serving myself a large helping of potatoes.

"Do you have breakfast together often?" My mom asked, her voice taking on a surprised and slightly mortified tone.

"Most Sundays I go over Anne's for coffee and then we'll watch old movies." I explained. "But sometimes she'll come over to the loft just to add a little spice into the routine."

"Spice, eh?" Cindy laughed.

I kicked her underneath the table and she only laughed harder.

* * *

"So we made it out in one piece and with enough leftovers to last us a week." I said, holding the car door open for Anne. 

She nodded, unusually quiet.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I started the car.

"I'm fine." She answered, closing her eyes and resting her head on her hands.

"You look worse now than you did before we went in."

"Mark, I'm fine. Just let it go for fuck's sake." She snapped, pulling her seatbelt on.

I figured it was in both of our best interests not to start anything. We rode in silence for what felt like eternity. We ended up outside her apartment.

"I'm sorry for prying," I began, turning to look her in the eye. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

"Stop apologizing." She said, her face blank.

"Okay…" I sat back in my seat trying to will what I was really thinking from coming out.

"Goodnight." She gave me an emotionless kiss and opened her door.

_What the fuck?_

I sat outside for a few minutes, weighing my options. I could either go home and let this blow over and wait for Anne to call in a couple days or resolve it now. Before I had a chance to even think it over, I was bounding up the stairs and knocking on her door.

"Anne, come on. Open the door."

I heard a muffled yell from the inside. "Go away, Mark."

"Whatever it is, it's not my fault. So just tell me what's wrong and we can get over this."

"I don't want to talk about it. Leave me alone." She called.

"You know what, fine! Forget it." I gave the door a swift kick. "Sorry for caring!"

* * *

Just a little lover's quarrel. They'll smooth things out, no worries. At the moment, I think Anne too much of a Mary Sue. You tell me. 

Sorry it took so long for me to add another chapter. I was swamped with finishing all that AP work (FINALLY FINISHED!) and then my job. Remind me again why I want to have responsibilities and obligations?

Coming up next: Mark and Anne finally do The Deed... if you know what I mean wink wink And she meets Maureen for the first time, which will prove to be interesting for all parties involved. Roger will narrate his first chapter too! That will only happen when Anne or Mark's point of view would be boring or too one-sided in a situation. I have about three chapters planned with Roger in charge so look forward to them. They will be few and far between.

**Harper's Pixie**: Mark is naturally unlucky. Until he met Anne, that is. But I would keep those Kleenex within arm's reach for later chapters because I have a few sob stories to unleash...

**msgalinda**: Thanks for your sweet review:o) I'm glad you like my Cohen-centric story.

**MandiMooShoe**: Angsty Mark can get old. Fast. So I just sprinkle in a little anger here and there amongst the smiles and happiness.

**SaoirseGreene**: Yay! You said it was well written! That's by far one of the compliments that I like getting the best. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

**DramaGirl**: I never understood why Mark always had to suffer while Mimi and Roger had this fantastic flourishing relationship. Anne and Mark are totally awkward and douchey, but that's why I love them.

**vah**: Mark does deserve some ass from time to time. But don't we all? Thanks for reviewing :o)

**lost my rent**: I'm glad you like my Roger. I'm trying to make him as authentic and sarcastic as I can. And I can so see Mark flipping pancakes in the kitchen, with a nice pot of coffee brewing... ahem. Carrying on.

Remember, reviews are very, very nice. There's nothing better than checking my email at school and seeing that I got a few.

-Ella


	9. Chapter 9

**WARNING:** This chapter deals with sex so if you're uncomfortable reading something of the sort, I suggest you wait for the next update. Otherwise, enjoy the _lemon_y goodness.

* * *

_Anne_

I set the newspaper down and looked out the foggy window. It was raining outside and the night sky was a dreadful shade of grey. I hadn't spoken to Mark since I ran out on him last week. I saw his roommates, Roger and Mimi, when I was grocery shopping and I did my best to stay away from them. They don't need to know why I left him that night. They don't need to know my secrets in general.

I missed him; I missed him a lot. How he'd film at the worst and most embarrassing times. His crooked smile and hunched shoulders. And those blue eyes that were always full of emotion, whether or not he wanted them to be. Of course I'd never admit the fact to anyone other than myself, but deep down I knew it was the truth.

I don't know what compelled me to do it, but I found myself pulling on a flimsy pair of shoes and running outside. After only a few seconds in the downpour, my clothing was soaked through and heavy. I splashed through the slushy mess on the sidewalks and made my way to the loft. But when I got to the door, I just stood there. I didn't know whether or not to knock or to just hope that someone would open the door by chance. I raised my hand and hit the door softly.

Once, twice, three times.

I heard some shuffling around from the inside before Mark appeared at the door.

I launched myself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I'm so, so sorry Mark." I sobbed into his chest. "I feel terrible."

"It's okay." He stroked my hair. "Please don't cry."

"No, I had no reason to treat you like shit when you were nothing but nice all day, walking on eggshells around your mother for my sake."

"You're forgiven. It's alright." He hugged me back and I finally felt myself relax. "Anne, I love you."

I had to consciously clench my jaw to prevent it from sagging.

_He loved me._

_Say something!_

"I love you too." I leaned in and gave him a kiss, my hair leaving wet spots on the front of his shirt.

"You're shivering. And soaking wet… Did you not have an umbrella?"

I shook my head, spraying him with droplets of water. "I wasn't thinking. I just came on an impulse."

"I'll get you something warm to change into." He laughed, pulling me towards his bedroom. "How do sweats and a t-shirt sound?"

"Anything's better than wet jeans." I followed him, my damp shoes squelching on the wood floor.

_He loved me._

I could barely focus as he pulled random articles of clothing out of his chest of drawers. My mind was reeling. It was odd, now that I had begun to think of it. Just saying it didn't seem to do it justice. There are 23 different words for "love" in the Greek language. Maybe if I knew it I would've been able to make him understand that I meant it.

I unzipped my sweatshirt and tossed my jeans onto the floor.

"You're cold." Mark stated the obvious. "Come here." He pulled me too him and I was shocked at how warm his skin was against my own. His hands only made the goose bumps worse.

I pulled out of our embrace and reached for the clothing lying on his bed but Mark grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him, capturing my lips in a slow, moist kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair and tugged the hem of his shirt upwards. Mark pushed me backwards until the back of my legs hit the bed. I slowly lowered myself down, pulling Mark on top of me.

We broke apart, just staring at one another for a moment. He ran a hand up my side, inadvertently ticking my ribs.

I shivered and wiggled away from his hand with a laugh. I moved one hand to his neck and pulled him back down to me. We became a writing mass of hands and lips and skin until my hand landed on the waistband of his jeans. Mark tensed and pulled away. "Do you want to…?" He asked, obviously struggling with a tactful way to phrase the question.

"Yes," I breathed, struggling to undo the button.

He covered my mouth with his own and brought a hand down to help me get it done. "Anne…" Mark said softly, brushing strands of hair out of my face. "Are you sure?" He asked gently. "I want _this_… I want _you_. But I don't want you to regret it if something were to happen to us."

"I'm sure." My hands returned to his jeans, struggling with the silver buttons.

"Oh, wait a second." Mark said, pushing my hands away for a minute. He fished out a wallet from his back pocket and took a square package out. He grinned sheepishly and tossed it onto the milk crate next to his bed, landing among coffee mugs and messy notebooks.

He pulled my face to his, smiling before planting kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. I finally popped the button and pushed the loose material from his hips to the floor, leaving him in only his boxers.

"This is uncomfortable." He laughed, wrapping his arms around my waist. "So, so uncomfortable."

_Mark_

Anne laughed and ran her hands up and down my back. "I love you. And I love your freckles." She fell silent as her hands made their way down my stomach and past the waistband of my boxers. My eyes grew heavy as it traveled even lower, exploring the sensitive skin. My hips bucked and she looked at me with wide eyes, obviously startled.

"Is that okay?" She sounded like a child, as if she was seeking approval.

I dug my fingers into her shoulders and groaned. "Yes, yes…"

Satisfied and encouraged by my responsive, she quickened her ministrations. I felt that familiar tingle and realized this experience wasn't going to last much longer at the rate we were moving.

"Anne," I said as I abruptly grabbed at her wrist. "Honey, you have to stop."

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked quickly.

"God, no! Not at all." I answered breathlessly. "I'm just worried that… I don't want to waste our first time." She nodded and backed off a bit. "You're entirely too clothed, you know that?"

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "And what are you going to do about it?"

I reached behind her and fumbled with the clasp on her bra, unhooking it after a few seconds. I hooked a finger around the skiff of panties she was wearing and raised an eyebrow. "Does this even qualify as underwear?"

"Hardly." She answered, helping me pull them off.

Anne bit her lip as I moved my hands downwards and held onto my shoulders for support. Her hair tickled my neck as she rested her head on my shoulder. "Oh," she whispered heavily "…_oh_…" She held my arms tighter.

"Mark, I'm ready."

I gulped and my mouth suddenly felt dry. I nodded and reached over to my makeshift bedside table. Anne gave me a hand putting it on, both of us blushing furiously.

I grabbed her hands in my own and looked into her eyes. "Are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

She gave me a sweet smile and nodded, laying back into the pillows.

I swallowed nervously again and looked down at her, blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, the anxious look in her eyes.

I slid my hand between her legs, nudging them open as I crawled over her. He eyes widened in anticipation and I counted to three before slowly entering her. She gasped and tensed immediately, grabbing my arms hard enough to leave bruises.

"Relax…" I said, stroking her hair. "Breathe, Anne. Just relax." I kissed her and she took a deep breath as I pushed farther. I stopped for a minute, letting us both get accustomed to the new sensation.

"I'm okay, Mark." She reassured me, cupping my cheek in her hand. "It's okay." After a little while, we found a smooth rhythm that worked for the two of us, our hips moving in sync. Her breath came in short spurts, as she alternated between holding her breath and gasping for air.

"Are you alright?" I asked, trying hard to articulate what I was thinking. It was too different and amazing for me to verbalize, let alone say something intelligent.

Anne nodded, fat tears spilling from her cheeks.

"Please don't cry."

"It's supposed to hurt; it can't be helped." She sniffed, giving me a watery smile. "There's nothing you can do besides going slow."

"Whatever you need, tell me. I'll stop if you want me to. Don't hold it in."

I propped up on my elbows over her and watched her face, neither of us speaking. Again, the only sounds that filled my ears were the sheets beneath us and the deep breaths I was taking to maintain control of myself.

"I love you."

_Anne_

I could tell by the way Mark's eyes were squeezed shut that he was getting ready. His jaw was clenched tightly and his face was pink with exertion.

"Oh god," he breathed as his muscles tightened. "Anne… I'm close…" The pace of his hips quickened and matched his short breaths.

"Keep going." I whispered, lacing his fingers with my own.

"Oh, god." Mark's eyelids fluttered and he gripped my hands hard as he came. He collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. The muscles of his back and shoulders trembled. We didn't move or talk for a few minutes. Mark raised himself up onto shaky arms.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Instead of responding, I kissed him; slowly and deeply. "Yes."

He looked skeptical as he pulled away and slowly got off of me. He stopped for a second, contemplating what to do. He settled in his bed beside me, lazily draping his arm across my waist.

We were just awkward. It was one of the defining points of our relationship. And sex personified that. Goofy, slightly uncomfortable, and all-around different.

"So that's sex…" He mused quietly.

I nodded in silent agreement.

"Are you sure you wanted to do that?" He asked, brow furrowing with concern. He looked different without his glasses on, almost unlike himself.

"It's not like we can do anything about it now, can we?" I replied, snuggling closer to his chest. His heart was still racing, even after the passing minutes.

"I'm sorry." He said, wrapping and twirling strands of my hair around his fingers. "I wish you could've… you know... enjoyed it."

"Mark, are you insane? Who wouldn't have enjoyed being doted upon by the person they love? I'm fine. It was fine. Just give it some time." I insisted.

"Well, what did you like? What was it like for you?" He asked, reaching for his glasses.

"Mark, don't over analyze this. It's _just_ sex."

_Never thought I'd hear myself say **that**._

"But I want you to enjoy it. If not now, than later." Mark said.

"If you want the truth, it wasn't fun. Being stretched beyond capacity and comfort wasn't my cup of tea. And the friction was the absolute worst." I said, trying to explain what I knew he didn't want to hear.

"Sorry."

"Quit apologizing! I told you that it couldn't be helped and we'll just have to practice to get it right."

"So was this make-up sex? Or just regular?" He laughed and kissed me.

"Can't it just be what it is? We'll cross the make-up sex bridge when we come to it." I ran my fingers across his cheek, just noticing the little scar he had just below his chin. "How did you get that?"

"An accident on a see-saw in pre-school. I landed on the ground too hard and my chin hit the handle bar." Mark replied, his eyes drooping more with each word. "I think we really wore each other out." He whispered, giving my waist a squeeze.

"Mmm hmm." I murmured as I rolled over.

"If Roger asks, what are we going to say?" Mark asked into my neck. "Would you be okay with me telling the truth? Or would you rather me lie? Because I can keep secrets from him, I've been doing it for years-"

"I love you, you idiot. Now good night."

* * *

So... Mark and Anne had sex. I don't know whether or not I shoud vomit or giggle. I'm going with giggle at the moment because the thought of Mark Cohen naked makes me revert back to school girl tendencies. Believe it or not, this was my first time (no pun intended) writing something sexual. Usually I just imply sex rather than write it out. So tell me whether or not you liked it. That's always important. 

And I must stress the importance of the switching of point of views- I will do this _**very rarely**_ because I hate jumping around like a jack rabbit. I only did it for this chapter because I didn't want the experience to be one sided.

**Harper's Pixie**: Maureen is just a bitch sometimes. We all know where that's going to lead... The reader (but not Mark) _might_ find out what's going on with Anne in the next chapter. I'm experimenting with foreshadowing and the response it gets. Personally, I adore reading stories where I know more than the characters because I find myself wanting to scream "No, you idiot! You're wrong about the whole thing!" But maybe that's just me...

**lost my rent**: Just because he's Jewish doesn't mean he can't eat pork products. It all depends on whether or not he's conservative/reform/etc. And if you want to think that he wasn't eating it, just make believe he was cooking it for Anne.

**IDontOwnEmotion**: Our lovely Mrs. Cohen... she's quite the card. I just love imagining some crazy Jewish lady wearing sweaters in Scarsdale. That always brings a smile to my face.

**Dave the L's gal**: Well I'm glad you enjoyed my non-one shot! I try hard to write this well and keep it interesting and still manage to spark some intrigue.

**SaoirseGreene**: You'll find out soon enough what's wrong with Anne. Oh, and Mark too. Even though it's really Anne's fault that things get so screwed up. Silly love-struck girl! I've said too much already!

**vahvprincess77**: I'm trying to balance school work and writing as best as I can, hence why the updates are a week or so apart. Give or take a few days. Thanks for the review :o)

-Ella


	10. Chapter 10

_Mark_

Anne came in the door in a hurry, sending flurries of snow across the kitchen as she took her coat off. "It's so damn cold out now!" She wrapped her arms around my waist, sticking her cold hands up my sweater.

"Jesus!" I squirmed out of her reach and continued reading the paper.

"You're such an easy target, you know that?" Anne laughed, kissing my neck.

"Do you want to go shopping for Christmas presents?" I asked, setting the paper down on the kitchen table.

"Mark, we're _Jewish_." Anne looked up from her stack of work papers. "We celebrate Hanukkah, remember?"

"Yeah, but saying 'Do you want to go Hanukkah present shopping' just doesn't have the same ring to it." I laughed. "So do you want to? Everyone's meeting at the Life at six."

Anne shrugged. "I haven't really given the holidays much thought…"

"Two weeks until Christmas." I reminded her.

"I've been busy. And broke. Give me a break!" She sighed.

"We can just look, you don't _have_ to buy something."

"And we don't _have_ to go shopping. Whatever happened to making dinner for your significant other, baking cookies, and sending nice cards? At least that's cheap!" Anne exclaimed. She couldn't hide her smile. "Get your damn coat, let's go."

Soon enough, we were trudging through the snowy sidewalks, looking forward to the welcoming warmth of the Life Café.

"Do you want me to get the coffee?" Anne asked, pressing a couple of dollars into my gloved hand before I could answer.

"Is this so I'll have more money to buy you a present?" I laughed, shoving it into my pocket.

"Honestly, I didn't give that a second thought until you mentioned it. I got your present eons ago." Anne replied, lacing her fingers with my own. She sighed, sending a white cloud into the air in front of us.

"And you're not going to drop any hints? You're just going to make me hang for fourteen days?"

She gave me an impish grin. "Of course not. That's the best part of telling you that. For all you know, I still haven't bought it and I'm doing this only so the anticipation will get to you."

"You're such a bitch. Remind me why I'm with you again?" I squeezed her hand.

She feigned anger but couldn't hide the smile on her face. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something and her expression softened, becoming serious. Just as quickly, she closed it and the smile returned. "Because my imperfections cancel out your own."

"And because you give answers like that. I love how you articulate like that off the top of your head." I kissed her ear as we made our way into the Life.

"Finally!" Collins exclaimed.

"We were beginning to think you blew us off to do something else!" Mimi said, pushing a chair out beside her.

"I believe the general consensus of 'something else' was screwing, actually." Roger commented, taking a sip from his mug. "But I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Sure you did." I shook my head. Roger would never change. "Are we going to sit around discussing my sex life or actually do something productive?"

Before any of them could answer, there was a loud squeal from behind us. "Markie!"

Mimi wrapped her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. "How are you? I haven't seen you in _forever_!"

I wiggled out of her grasp and shrugged. "I'm alright… Uh, how's Joanne?"

"I'm fine." Joanne said from behind her, arms crossed.

"I take it you're Anne?" Maureen asked, not bothering to take the obvious edge out of her voice. "I'm Maureen, Mark's _ex-girlfriend_."

"It's nice to meet you, Maureen. I've heard a lot of nice things about you from Mark." Anne extended her hand and smiled. "So you're a performance artist?"

_I love this woman._

Maureen, for one of the first times in her life, looked genuinely taken aback. "Yeah, I dabble in it here and there." She gave Anne the one over. "What do you do again?"

"I'm an accountant."

"Oh, yeah." Maureen answered nonchalantly, stifling a yawn.

Anne's smile faltered and her face reddened.

"Alright!" Collins clapped and stood up. "Weren't we going to brave the masses and buy Christmas presents?"

In a mess of coats and tip money, the group somehow made it outside into the snow.

"Do we have a plan or are we just winging it?" Mimi asked, linking her arm in Roger's.

"You can't exactly map out a shopping trip. It just happens." Collins remarked.

"Says the gay man." Snapped Maureen.

"And you're one to talk?" Joanne shot back.

Anne stifled a laugh into my shoulder. "Are they always like this?"

"Sometimes worse, sometimes better." I replied. "You'll get used to it fast."

"Are you talking about me behind my back, Mark?" Maureen asks, stopping and blocking the sidewalk in front of us. "I can't believe you!"

"Maureen, not now. For Christ's sake…" Roger muttered. "I wish I still fucking smoked."

Mimi took his arm and led him to a nearby bench. "You know how long these things can last..."

"Mark, how can you do something like this to me?" Maureen shrieked, causing passing pedestrians to stare.

I felt a blush rising in my cheeks. "You know I wasn't saying anything bad."

"What do you take me for, an idiot? Of course you were saying something bad because if you weren't you would've said it to everyone. Right? Right everyone!"

Fighting with Maureen, I've learned, is like fighting with a belligerent child who refuses to go to bed. All attempts at resolution will be futile and you're going to end up exasperated and frustrated. You might as well save yourself the headache and just walk away before her voice goes up multiple decibels.

"Sorry." I shrugged, pulling Anne around her.

"We're not finished discussing this, Mark!" She called after me.

"Why do you have to do this?" I heard Joanne ask quietly. "Can't we go out for a nice time with friends without you throwing a temper tantrum?"

"I am _not_ throwing a tantrum!" Maureen scowled, clenching her fists. "I'm simply calling Mark on his childish behavior."

"Again, you're one to talk." Collins interrupted.

* * *

Anne collapsed on the couch, dropping her bags on the floor at her feet. "Is Maureen always that exhausting?" 

"Try going on a date with it."

She gave me a blank stare.

"No, I'm serious. Try." I nodded and took a seat next to her.

Anne shook her head. "She's fucking insane, Mark. How did you put up with that?"

"I don't even know. Looking back, everything in my life was just so hectic and screwed up that I needed someone to keep me grounded. God knows Roger wasn't capable of it. And Maureen was constant, so I got attached. You see, during Roger's withdrawal…"

Anne turned away and looked at her hands.

"You don't like hearing about that part of my life, do you?" I asked.

"It's not that I don't want to hear about your history or anything, but I just met your ex-girlfriend who's a psycho lesbian. There's only so much you can lay on a person in twelve hours." Anne said quietly. "I'm going to go shower, try to wash some of today down the drain, you know?"

I nodded and squeezed her thigh. "I know."

I knew that meeting Maureen was going to be tense and awkward, but she just had such a negative attitude about the whole thing! It was almost as if she was trying to scare Anne off. Maureen's the type who wants to have her cake and eat it too. She doesn't want to be in a romantic relationship with me, but I'm supposed to be at her every beck and call. Which I suppose she thought meant being single for the rest of my life.

Anne's hands on my shoulders interrupted me from my reverie. "Your shoulders are really tense."

"I'm just stressed out and exhausted, emotionally and physically." I said.

Maureen tends to do that to the people she's around. Hence why we try to keep long periods of time spent together few and far between.

She nudged me with her arm. "Scoot down to the floor." As her hands worked out the kinks in my muscles, I felt the day's frustrations falling down between us. Sure, I hadn't wanted her introduction to Maureen to have been that rocky, but she handled it with poise and grace, which I never knew was possible.

Anne's nails gently scratched from the back of my head down my sides. "How's that?"

"You're making me tired." I dropped my head back into her lap.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

"Anne, do you remember what happened the last time I agreed to you staying over?"

"But Roger and Mimi are going to be out late tonight. The gigs last until at least one or two…" She pleaded.

I shook my head. "Let's just go lie down with for a while but I'm not going to make any promises. We both have work."

"You're going to begrudge me a night on your lumpy mattress, especially after that massage?" Anne cracked a smile and helped me off the floor, laughing when my back gave two loud cracks. "I won't keep you up late, I promise."

"What is this, high school?" I laughed, pulling her onto said lumpy mattress. "Keep me up as late as you want."

Her lips found mine after a few moments as she curled up beside me. "I knew you'd see it my way."

* * *

Ducks from flying objects, including but not limited to keyboards, textbooks, and _RENT_ movie soundtrack cases 

I know, I know. I deserve to be flogged for not updating. My work hours have been heavy and making money for college and stuff I need took top priority. Yes, I have a job and contribute to society. I guess that means I have a life. Go figure!

So Maureen is obnoxious as ever and is totally going to try sabotage tactics in the next couple chapter. What a bitch. I always pegged her as the jealous type. She only wants Mark so he'll do her shit work, in case you didn't get that.

Up next: Roger and Anne spend a little "quality time" together on Christmas Day. A trip back to Scarsdale for Mark and Anne, which wouldn't be complete without a little meddling on Mrs. Cohen's part.

Remember- reviews brighten my school days ) I'll leave it at that.

**lost my rent**: I didn't mean to sound harsh or mean. I was just pointing out that Jew doesn't necessarily equal a porkless diet. I hope you weren't offended. Thanks for still reading.

**Harper's Pixie**: I'm really anxious to _share_ Anne's problem, but I can't rush things. Each chapter gets me one step closer to it, so just bear with me. I know you're going to LOVE what happens. Big shocker.

**L.M. Ward**: I'm sorry for not updating! You can be first in line for giving me a swift kick in the shins. Mark would_ totally_ over-analyze sex, I'm glad someone agrees with me!

**H2OAngel**: I'm trying to make Roger the comedic relief. He still has to be a cynical asshole, but he genuinely cares for Mark's well-being. I secretly think my Roger wants Mark to be happy with Anne so he can move out and have the apartment to himself with Mimi.

**Dave the L's gal**: I'm glad you liked it )

**IDontOwnEmotion**: I can't please everybody, but thanks for reading and complimenting. There won't be a lot of chapters like nine because, frankly, they're awkward to write.

**The next chapter will be up in less than 72 hours, I PROMISE!**

-Ella


	11. Chapter 11

_Anne_

Mark kissed my shoulder gently. "Wake up, it's Christmas."

I glanced at the clock and groaned. 7:30. Doesn't he get that we're _Jewish_?

"I'm going to get a shower in before the festivities begin. Coffee's brewing if you want a cup." He kissed my cheek before shuffling off to the bathroom, carrying a couple of the blankets with him. The heat in the loft was acting up. Again.

Much to my own dismay, I wasn't able to fall back to sleep. I sat up to see a silver box on the bed beside me. I squealed and tore the paper from it, revealing a heavy black album. As I opened it, a handwritten note fell from the cover.

_ Anne,_

_ Some of my best work has happened after we met._

_ You deserve to see what you've inspired._

_ Love, Mark_

Sure, the note was cheesy. But most definitely sincere. As I flipped through the pages, pictures of the city and Mark and I smiled up at me. The last one, obviously taken recently, was of the two of us passed out on the couch together. "Aww, Mark."

I set the album back in its box and dragged myself to the kitchen; some caffeine was in order. The ancient 45 player had been taken out and was playing what sounded like carols from the forties and fifties.

"Morning, Anne. Merry Christmas." Roger said, pulling me into a hug.

"I would've never pegged you the holiday spirit type, Roger. Merry Christmas to you too." I hugged him back and settled on the couch. "You might want to turn that down though, if Mimi's asleep."

Roger shook his head. "Nah, she's at church with her mom and then picking up orange juice for mimosas."

"You're starting to look like a regular June Cleaver!" I laughed, gently shoving his shoulder.

"And don't you look well-fucked." He said, with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Here I was thinking we were actually having a civil conversation that didn't involve my and Mark's sex life. Way to ruin it, Roger."

"Look, I know we talked about this briefly before…" His demeanor turned from playful to serious before he continued. "But Mark's had his fair share of heartbreak these past few years. He really loves you." Roger put his hand on my knee. "And I trust you because I see how much you care for him. Just don't do anything stupid."

"This is out of the blue, Roger. What brought on the sudden big-brother act?" I asked, taken aback by Roger's confession.

"The longer your… relationship goes, the more attached I see him get." Roger shakes his head. "You didn't see him after Maureen. He was an absolute wreck, just shuffling around like a zombie. Locked himself in his room for a couple days."

"In all seriousness, Roger. Why now?" I groaned, standing up roughly.

"I figured that if you were going to break things off…" He began.

"Stop _figuring_." I spat, grabbing a box from beneath the tree and tossing it at him. "Merry fucking Christmas."

Slamming the bedroom door behind me, I pounded furiously at a pillow, wishing it was Roger's head that was receiving the beating instead.

"Anne, I know what's going on." Roger said, leaning up against the door. "Let's just talk about this like adults."

I opened the door a crack. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Roger pushed past me with ease, closing the door quietly. "Look, I know people. People talk." He sat down on the foot of the bed and gestured for me to do the same. "How long has… _this_ been going on?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, waiting for the jolt. I was dreaming and I was sure of it. Your boyfriend's roommate/best friend doesn't just have a nice little intervention with you over mimosas on Christmas Day. Things like that just don't happen.

"I was doing it before I met Mark. Just here and there though…" I swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

"Does he know?"

Roger's question was met with silence.

"Well? Does he!" He repeated, this time his voice more harsh.

I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. "N-no, he doesn't."

Roger ran his fingers through his hair. "Jesus, Anne. Jesus H. Christ. Do you know what this is going to do to him when he finds out?"

"You're not going to say anything, Roger. Either I'll tell him myself or he'll figure it out." I said firmly.

"I take it that means you expect me to keep this from him? He's my best friend, my oldest friend. We don't keep secrets here." Roger replied.

"It's not your place to tell him!" I hissed through clenched teeth.

"What's with the hushed voices?" Mark asked, pushing the door open. "Did Roger wake you?"

"Yeah, I was getting lonely in the kitchen." Roger answered for me.

"But I was going to get up anyway." I said, enveloping Mark in my arms. "Good morning, you."

He returned the hug and, in turn, stuck his icy hands up the back of my shirt.

I shrieked and pushed angrily at his chest, but he remained latched to me.

"Have you been eating?" He asked, brows knitting in concern.

"You sound like your mother." I tried to laugh him off but he still stayed serious.

"No, seriously. I can feel your vertebrae." He said, running his cold hands up and down my spine. "Have you always been this skinny?"

I froze. "Yes… well not, uh, not… quite."

"Are you alright?" Mark took my head in his hands and gave me a gentle, sweet kiss. "Just stressed about the holidays and such?"

"Yeah, that's it." I nodded. "I just have a hard time juggling work and spending time with you and all the Christmas parties that have come down the pike this month."

"If you need a day off, just tell me. I understand _completely_." He kissed me again.

_Shit. Why does he have to say the things I want to hear the least?_

Roger cleared his throat from behind us. "I think I just heard Mimi come in. So I'll go see if she needs any help."

"He can be so inconsiderate sometimes. But I think he means well." Mark shrugged as the door closed.

I sighed and leaned in on Mark's chest. "It's alright. The album is beautiful, Mark. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." He kissed me. "But aren't I supposed to get one in return?"

"I almost forgot! I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, rummaging through my suitcase. I extracted the bag carefully. "Here you go."

"Is this a sweater?" He asked, pulling it from the tissue paper.

"Mark! It's cashmere, which is lightweight but really soft." I crossed my arms.

"That's feminine, Anne."

"It'll bring out the color in your eyes." I protested.

"It _is_ soft!" Mark rubbed it against his cheek. "Do they make cashmere pillows?"

"I'll look into it for your birthday." I said, adjusting his glasses.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, running his hands up and down my arms. "You cold?"

I nodded. "I swear. After I shower can I borrow a sweatshirt? My blouse really isn't going to cut it with no heat."

"I'll get you a steak too. Some meat on those bones might keep you warmer." He opened the door and headed towards the kitchen, where Roger and Mimi were standing, whispering.

"You're one to talk." I poked at his side. "You've been wearing the same clothes since college."

"High school." Roger interjected.

"If you hate my stuff so much why don't you buy me new clothing for, say Christmas?" Mark laughed, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"He has a point." Mimi said, taking champagne out of a brown bag. "Mimosas, anyone?"

* * *

"I _triple_ dog dare you!" The TV resounded through the loft. What holiday would be complete without Christmas Story re-runs? 

"I'm going to head home." I got up and stretched. "Merry Christmas everyone."

Mark followed me to the door and handed me my coat. "It's late- you can bring everything home tomorrow."

"Will you stay over tonight?" I asked.

"I don't know…" He cast a glance over at Roger and Mimi, who were cuddled up together on the couch.

"Roger and Mimi are big kids, they can handle themselves. Besides, all of us could use some time alone." I reasoned, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Please?"

He nodded and reached for his coat.

We walked in silence for a while, the streets eerily quiet.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mark squeezed my hand in his. "Because if something's not working for you, we'll try to fix it."

"Mark, do relationships make you paranoid?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer, but I could tell by the look of his furrowed brow that he was concentrating on his thoughts. Mark still hadn't answered by the time we got back to my apartment.

"I'm, um, going to change." I stuttered as he sat down on the couch and rested his head in his hands.

I stripped off his sweater and my shirt, tossing them into my laundry basket.

"Anne?" Mark knocked on the door.

"Come in." I called without thinking.

He walked in slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets. I sat on the foot of my bed waited for him to initiate conversation.

"I don't want to lose people that I care about because I didn't take the time to fix mistakes. That's why I'm always making sure you're okay. I don't want you to leave because you think I don't care or that I'm ignoring you. Whether or not that makes me paranoid of relationships, I don't know." He knelt down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

I stroked his cheek. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I meddle because I love." Mark said, cracking a smile.

"Come on, let's watch some crappy TV and go to bed." I pulled the covers down and crawled beneath them, Mark joining me.

* * *

Psst... word on the street is that _Roger knows_. But YOU DON'T. Patience is a virtue children. Hold your horses for a couple more beat around the bush chapters and I promise you'll get some genuine drama. LIVE and UNCUT. 

**Harper's Pixie**: The movie soundtrack... le sigh I'm very, very disappointed. Anthony sound great though. I love love love that man. And can I say that I love you a lot for being a forever faithful, true-blue reviewer?

**Koishii-Kitsune-Akia**: I'm glad you like the story )

**L.M. Ward**: Collins and Joanne are _fierce_. I honestly believe that nobody likes Maureen that much, but they keep her around because she's a silly drunk. Love to my other true-blue reviewer.

**IDontOwnEmotion**: It's alright ) Mrs. Cohen's in the next chapter, as screwed up in the head as usual.

**eLpHaBaFaBaLaElPhIeFaE**: Anne's a Mary Sue, you can say it. But I'm glad you liked the story. Keep reading if you're interested!

-Ella


	12. Chapter 12

_Mark_

"Are you sure you're alright with this?" I asked, twisting around my tie in a vain attempt to knot it.

"It's an excuse to get dressed up." Anne answered, carefully applying her makeup. She was sprawled out on my bed, wearing a slip and a bra. "And your sister was nice last time we visited, the least I can do is go to her tenth anniversary party. Can you hand me my dress?"

I took the hanger off the closet door and resisted the habitual urge to throw it. "Do you need me to zip it?"

She nodded and pulled it over her head. "Okay, go." She breathed in and the zipper went up easily. "Do you still need help with that tie?"

I nodded sheepishly, feeling my face get hot.

"Don't worry, my dad can't knot his own tie either. If I hadn't learned we would've never gotten anywhere on time." She looped the silk around and pulled it into a small knot before smoothing it down.

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?" I asked, brushing a curly tendril out of her face.

"The same reasons you don't talk about yours. Bad memories, negative karma, just all around awful." She replied, busying herself with pulling on a pair of thigh-highs.

"Will I ever meet them?" I asked, sitting down next to her.

"There's not really much to 'them'. Just my dad. And if the time is right, then sure. But I don't want to rush you into meeting him." Anne answered.

"And that's because…?"

"He's an asshole, Mark. But he's _my_ asshole of a father and I love him." She gave me a pained smile, her eyes looking a bit red and damp.

"I didn't mean to pry." I said, stroking her cheek.

"I know." She swallowed hard and kissed me softly. "If I don't get my ass in gear, we'll never make it there on time."

I helped Anne into her coat and pocketed my house keys. I reluctantly left my worn and torn blue and white scarf and we were off. Anne nodded off almost immediately after we left. This was our third night spent together the past two weeks; she'd been so swamped with work. She cleverly disguised the black circles beneath her eyes with makeup, but I knew they were there. As the Amtrak screeched to a halt, she stirred and the blood began flowing through my arm once more. She laced her fingers through mine as we made our way out in search of a ride to the hotel.

"I'm sorry but I'm just so tired and my head's been bothering me lately." Anne stifled a yawn.

"You've worked a lot this week." I said, looking around for a taxi. "It's understandable."

"Can I rest my eyes? Just until we get there?" Anne asked. Her eyes were heavy and dark.

I immediately felt guilty for asking her to come with me. I had known that it would be a chore to get ready for and that the commute would be anything less than enjoyable. I was jolted forward in my seat as the taxi pulled up to the small inn on Main Street. It hadn't changed a bit since the last time I was there, which had been some girl's bat mitzvah. Eons ago.

_God, I feel old._

"Ready for a hellish couple of hours?" I asked as we entered.

"If it's that bad, we can just make up an excuse about a long commute and head home." Anne whispered with a grin.

"Mark! Anne! So glad you made it!" Cindy called from the table. "Boys, go say hi to Uncle Mark." She helped the two toddlers out of their booster seats, who soon wrapped themselves around my legs.

"Hey buddy," I picked one of them up "How old are you now? Seven? Nine?"

"Five, silly goose!" Matthew laughed, holding up five fingers.

"And what about you, Alex? How's Biddy Ball?" I asked, ruffling his dark hair.

"I scored a basket yesterday!" He exclaimed.

"Good for you!" I handed Matthew back to Cindy and kissed her cheek. "Happy Anniversary." Andrew reached across the table and shook my hand.

"Thanks. Nice to see you, Mark." He said, gesturing to the other end of the table. "Just sit… wherever you can find room."

"Where's Mom?" I gazed around the room.

"She thinks she caught a bug from one of the ladies she plays bridge with." Cindy explained, bouncing the toddler on her leg.

I inwardly rejoiced my mother's absence. One less person to tell me to stand up straighter, eat more, and try using a brush when combing my hair.

As Anne and I settled into chairs away from the chaos, Andrew stood up to make a toast.

"If the horrible speech he made at their wedding is any indication of this one, just smile and nod and act like he's hilarious." I said into her ear.

She giggled and took hold of her glass.

After Andrew finished, music started up and he and Cindy went to the dance floor.

"God, this is cheesy." I muttered, taking a deep gulp of champagne.

Anne followed suit with a laugh. "Promise me that you'll never let me throw a party that's stupid like this. Or wear purple tracksuits. Hell, tracksuits in general."

I gave her a strange look before answering. "Whatever you say, Anne. Do you want to dance?"

Ella Fitzgerald crooned softly through the speakers. I pulled Anne closer to me, burying my face in her hair as we swayed to the beat. "We should dance like this more often."

"Like how?" Anne asked, resting her forehead against my own.

"All close and such."

"I hate to ruin the moment, but I think they're serving the food," She laughed as she pulled away from my embrace. "And you know I can't turn down a good Caesar salad."

I linked my arm with hers and followed her over to the banquet table filled with platters. As I busied myself with some chicken, I noticed another guest striking up a conversation with Anne. She opened her mouth, shocked, before giving him an awkward hug. They made their way down to me, Anne holding her hand out for my own. "This is my boyfriend. Mark, Patrick and I dated during college. He and Andrew work at the same firm."

I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

He turned his attention back to Anne, touching her shoulder. "How have you been, Annie? You never called! Are you still working as an accountant?"

She nodded. "I've been really busy with work the past few years. And what about you, Mr. Hot Shot lawyer? Got a wife at home?"

He held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger. "I'm a perpetual bachelor." His beeper went off loudly, interrupting us. "Look, I've got to go make an important call but we should catch up some time, maybe go for drinks? Cindy and Andrew have my number. It was nice seeing you, babe." He kissed Anne's cheek and she stiffened.

"_Babe_?" I mimicked once he was out of earshot, narrowing my eyes at his disappearing frame. "Who the hell was that?"

"I told you, Patrick and I dated in college. Nothing more." Anne said, her voice sounding surprisingly gravelly, almost like a growl.

"If it's nothing more, why are you getting defensive?" I asked, roughly serving a roll onto my plate. "You know about my fucked past relationships. Just look at what I have with Maureen, and we're not even dating anymore."

"Mark," Anne whispered, her eyes pleading with my own "I'll tell you everything later, I promise. Don't ruin your sister's party."

"Fine."

We ate in an awkward silence, both of us obviously knowing that we were both at fault but being too stubborn to admit it.

"Fuck it," Anne muttered "I'm sorry." She set her utensils down. "Can we not fight about something as stupid as an ex-boyfriend that means nothing? You're not the jealous type."

I nodded and stroked her cheek. "I promise to stop being an asshole. You know how these family gatherings get me paranoid…"

"What do you say we head home and spend the rest of the night in bed?" Anne whispered, an impish glint forming in her eyes.

I could barely get a word out before she had pulled me over to where Cindy and Andrew were sitting, making an excuse about Amtrak times.

"Thanks for having us, Cindy." I managed to spit out. "Tell Mom to feel better for me."

* * *

"Who was that Patrick guy?" I asked, pulling Anne's head into my lap and massaging her scalp.

"An ex from college, I told you." She murmured, her eyes drooping.

"He was so touchy-feely. And I really didn't appreciate him calling you Annie." I muttered.

"I hated that too." Anne sighed, straining her neck towards my touch. "You need to do this every time I'm tense. I'm going to _make_ you do this from now on."

I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair. "As much as you're enjoying this, the position's a little awkward for my… your head... it's heavy."

"Ooh, sorry!" Anne squealed as she sat up, curling herself around me. "I guess it's like sucker punching someone and getting them in the boob."

I gave her a questioning look. "Who in their right fuckin' mind slugs you in the chest?"

She shrugged. "Dunk people. Assholes. The like."

"That's like jimmy-tapping someone for the fun of it. I can't tell you how many times a swift kick in the balls would've stopped Roger from doing some stupid something or anoth-"

"Mark, Patrick and I were engaged." Anne blurted out, clapping her hands over her mouth.

"What?" I exclaimed, pulling my arms from around her and shoving her away.

"He proposed, put a ring on my finger, we told a few people and then called it off after a couple months. It was nothing."

"_Nothing_?" I spat, angrily tossing the covers off myself. "You call an engagement fucking nothing? I can see a date or a letterman jacket or maybe even some stupid piece of jewelry. But an engagement?"

"You're overreacting." Anne rolled her eyes and pulled the blankets around herself before laying down. "He's a former flame. Nothing more."

"Would you quit saying that? It's something if you kept it from me. It obviously meant something to you, probably still does. God, that's so slutty of you, Anne. Slutty and inconsiderate." I huffed.

"How is it slutty, Mark? You're not making sense." She said, obviously exasperated.

She had a point.

"Sleep on the couch tonight."

"Excuse me!" Anne sat up abruptly. "Mark, you're toeing a line that will get you in a lot of trouble if crossed."

"Sleep. On. The. Couch." I said each syllable with deliberate malice.

"I don't need this, especially after I put myself out on a limb for you when I should've been catching up on sleep. I'm going home." Anne sighed, reaching to pull on her shoes and grabbing her coat from the floor. "I'll get my clothes… whenever. Bye."

I caught one look at her scantily-clad frame hurrying across the loft and chased after her. "If you go out like that, you're practically asking for someone to rape-" I swallowed. "Someone to hurt you. Just sleep on the couch, please."

"I'm a slut, remember? I'll get what's coming to me." She mocked, turning on her heel. "And you're incapable of not caring, aren't you? For Christ's sake, we're fighting and you're still thinking of my well being. I'm not a child, Mark. I'm twenty one years old and I'll fucking take care of myself." She sat down angrily on the couch and removed her coat.

I walked back to my room and took one of my blankets out to her. A quasi-peace offering, I suppose. I knelt down and tucked it around her legs, taking a seat next to them.

"We have to start telling the truth." She said.

I nodded in silent agreement.

"It's not that I purposely omitted Patrick from the story, because I honest to God try to forget about all the time I spent with him. I just… it's not something I like talking about."

I ran my hands up and down her arms, hoping to chase away the goose bumps. I inwardly cursed Benny

"I'm sorry for yelling and being an insensitive bastard. Sending you to the couch was just… wow. It was dick." I ran my hands through my hair, angry at myself. "I'm incapable of acting like an adult when things surprise me."

"You're always sorry, Mark. Stop apologizing. Just say you forgive me and let's cool it for tonight."

"I forgive you." I said, kissing her cheek.

_Forgive, but not forget._

She falls asleep a couple minutes later and I pry my hand from her own. Just as I'm creeping back to my room, Roger comes back from his gig that night.

"Hey man." He calls, dropping his guitar case loudly on the floor.

"Shh!" I hiss, gesturing to Anne.

"Why is she on the couch and why aren't you sleeping with her?" He whispers.

I shrug. "She was engaged. We fought over it." It's far too late to go into further detail.

Roger looks at me with wide eyes "No fucking shit. Here I was thinking she was some socially inept math geek. Anne got around."

"It's not a joke, Rog. The guy- he was at the anniversary party and had the balls to touch her and stuff. I wanted to kill her. How could she keep something like that from me?" I asked.

"Don't act like you haven't kept things from her." Roger says, taking off his coat.

"Bull. Like what?" I lean up against the doorframe.

"Like how you jack off in the shower daily." He says with a smug grin.

"Fuck you." I blush, unable to hide my own small smile.

"You love her. All's forgiven when you love someone. Just look at me and Meems. We both fucked things up in the beginning, but we're doing alright." Roger's smile widens.

"When's she coming back from her mom's again?"

"Two days. Just forty-eight more hours to wait."

I shake my head. "You've turned into such a softie. Goodnight, Roger."

"'Night, Mark." He calls before disappearing into his own room.

I collapse onto the bed, my mind reeling.

_How can she just **not** tell me about something big like that? I told her everything, even the bad things. Like Maureen._

It's just like Roger said. It's only forgivable when you really, truly care about someone.

_Forgiven, but not forgotten._

_

* * *

_

I'm really bad when it comes to updating, aren't I? I try, I really do. But I had a lot to fit into this chapter and it took a while to incorporate them all in a cohesive manner. And I'd rather sporatically update than feed people bullshit disguised as quality writing.

Up next: The real drama begins when the shit hits the fan. Finally. We find out what's going on with Anne, as told from Roger's point of view. I've been waiting to post this chapter for the LONGEST TIME so the faster you review, the faster it comes up. I'm hoping that's some sort of incentive to motive people.Reviews are nice, as are the people who write them.

**L.M. Ward**: Definitlely tell me what you think is going on with Anne! I want to know what's going through readers' minds!

**To No Absolutes**: I'm trying to get things up as quickly as I can. I swear. Thanks for reviewing )

**eLpHaBaFaBaLaElPhIeFaE**: What does Roger know? Tell me what you think!

**IDontOwnEmotion**: Anthony Rapp will _**NEVER**_ disappoint me. EVER. I'm meeting him on the 22nd squeals like her inner fangirl

**Harper's Pixie**: You really are too good to me. You review faithfully and you always have nice things to say. I'd give you a hint as to what's going on with Anne, but then I'd have to kill you. And I'm getting used to the movie soundtrack. Certain aspects of it are just immensely disappointing that I can't get over them, nor will I ever. Feel free to maul me for saying this, but I don't have Anthony's solo album. Is it good?

**Broadwaylove4ever**: Patience _is_ a virtue. But I am not virtuous in the least, so I try not to keep people waiting for too long. Thanks for reviewing!

**fizzingwhisbee**: You are? Is awed I think you're amazing. Which sounds totally stalker-esque and creepy, but I swear it's not like that. I just think you're brilliant.

**Bohemian Life**: Yes, it's totally cheesy and stereotypical. But it's fluffy and fun so you can't possibly dislike it. Thanks for reading and reviewing )

**Butterflygurl**: I'm guilty of reading everything involving Mark as well. If you want a really good one, I recommend highly "The Companion" by evilemmylou. It's one of my all-time favorites.


	13. Chapter 13

_Roger_

"Can I talk to you?" Anne interrupted me as she knocked on the window frame. Her eyes were swollen and red; she'd obviously been crying.

I nodded and cleared a spot on the fire escape for her to sit down on. "This is about Mark, right?"

"Um…" She pauses. I can read her like a book, she's easier than Mark.

An awkward and highly uncomfortable silence follows.

"I'm worried, Roger. I'm worried that when I tell him, he's not going to love me or want to be with me." She pulls her legs up and rests her head on them, sobbing. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

I feel bad now, like it's me and my standoffish attitude that's brought her to this sudden burst of truth. "Maybe you should, uh, call Mimi to talk about this?"

She shook her head. "Mimi knows Mark, but you know him better. You get him." She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears. "What if he leaves me Roger? Just goes and finds another girl while I'm getting..." She trailed off, unable to elaborate. "…while I'm gone and decides that I'm not good enough."

I rubbed her back. "I won't let him break your heart, okay? He's really not that type anyway so you shouldn't have anything to worry about. Just go in there. Talk to him. You two are adults and I know you can sort through this thing."

"I can't face him. I don't want to see the disappointment."

_Boy, do I know how that goes._

"Just go to sleep then. You don't need to tell him anything until you're ready, just get in bed and sleep." I smoothed her hair out of her face and offered my hand to her.

She hugged me tightly before ducking back into my bedroom. "Roger?" She called, looking back at me. "I love you, you know that right?"

I nodded and turned away. Whenever the shit finally hits the fan, I was going to have to pick up the pieces.

_-----_

The next morning I went out to buy a few replacement strings and stopped for coffee. As I climbed the second flight of stairs, I could hear raised voices. There wasn't any slamming or sounds of things breaking, like when Mimi and I fought, just lots of yelling.

"How could you?" Mark's voice resounded down the stairwell. "How could you fucking do that?"

I ran up the remaining flights two steps at a time. The door was open, explaining why the yelling was unusually loud. I set my bag down and scanned across the loft. I briefly saw Mark pace past his door before the yelling started again.

"Jesus Christ, Anne. What's wrong with you? How could you!" He repeated, his voice gaining volume with each syllable.

I heard her sob and try to choke out an answer.

"Mark, what the fuck is going on?" I stormed into his room, pulling his arm hard. Anne was sitting on the bed, her face red and tear-stained. Her body was shaking.

Mark had found out.

"Roger, this is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't! So I'm going to ask you one more time; what's going on?"

"I saw Anne with The Man today. She's lied to me this whole time. Lied about being married, lied about drugs. What else haven't you told me?" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

"I told you, Patrick and I weren't married." Anne whispered.

"Too little too fucking late." Mark spat at her. "She lied about everything, Roger. Remember that episode the first couple weeks we were dating? Yeah, that wasn't an allergic reaction. That was a spell of withdrawal. And her headache problem? That was from not getting her fix."

I shoved Mark to the side and sat down on the bed next to Anne, unsure whether or not I should touch her. "I promise I'll help you get clean, Anne. We'll find a good rehab place and sort everything out once we're all a little less worked up."

She nodded but the steady flow of tears didn't stop.

"Mark, get in the fucking kitchen. Now!" I growled, grabbing him roughly by the collar. At this point, he didn't have a choice.

"Stop policing me. She'll go to rehab and forget all about me and I'll go back to the way my life was before, minus a little good sex."

"Quit being such a fucking martyr, Mark. Nobody's leaving anybody." I slammed two mugs down on the counter and poured some water in.

"I don't want to be with a junkie, Roger. I don't want to deal with it again. I don't want to end up positive in a few months." He grabbed the cup from me and took a long gulp. His throat was probably on fire after all that yelling.

"Put your foot in your mouth, asshole. Not everyone who does drugs ends up with HIV." I said, trying to keep my voice calm and stern.

"What I could use right now is you not butting into my business. I'm not going through seeing another person I love go through withdrawal. No fucking way." Mark replied.

_What you could use right now is a good ass kicking._

"What about when you made me quit, cold turkey? You put up with my mood swings and my violence and my relentless verbal abuse. She's not even going to be here, Mark. She'll be some place safe and secure where nothing bad can happen to either of you."

"Don't fucking sugar coat rehab, Roger. I know what it's like. And I only stuck with you because you're my oldest friend. It would've been wrong to leave you like that when you needed someone."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You know damn well that leaving Anne right now would kill both of you. You didn't see her out on the fire escape last night. She's so fucking afraid right now, Mark! She thinks you're going to leave her and I didn't have the heart to tell her that you might!"

"You don't understand this." He dismissed me, heading back into his room.

"You love Anne. What's there for me to understand? It's more than just the brotherly love that you have for me. You truly love this girl, Mark."

"I already dealt with one druggie already, Roger. Your withdrawal was enough for me."

"Why don't you get this Mark? That love is a _doing_ verb, not just filming something with your camera? I could have all the time in the world with Mimi and it still wouldn't be enough to show her how much I love her."

He can be so frustrating sometimes! I'm trying to prevent him from making the biggest mistake of his life here and all he's doing is protesting.

"Roger..." he began, but I put my hand up.

"No. I give up. You're too busy living vicariously through what you film to realize that you have what people are looking for. It's right in front of you, Mark!" I run my head though my hair. "Just don't burn any bridges you may need to cross later on."

I slammed his bedroom door behind me and passed Mimi in the kitchen on my way out.

"Roger, what's wrong?" She tossed her bags into the corner and followed me to the door.

I didn't answer her. I knew that I'd blow up and scream and say things to her that I didn't mean. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. The last thing I needed right now was having both of them mad at me.

Mimi caught up with me and grabbed my arm, her eyes pleading. "Please Roger, tell me. I just came home and you're already shutting me out from what's going on."

"Mark wants to give up on Anne. He says that my withdrawal was enough and that it's not worth the risk of her leaving once she's clean." I rested my head against the cool metal of the door.

Mimi looked at me, incredulous. "Anne uses? We're talking about the same Anne, right?

I nodded. "I can't believe he's doing this."

She ran a hand up and down my back. "Well what has Anne said? Did they even talk about what's going to happen to their relationship while she's there? Or is he just assuming?"

"There's a lot more to this than we expected. You don't know about what happened while you were home." I sat down put my head in my hands. "It was awful, Meems. Anne was sobbing and hyperventilating and Mark was just going off on her calling her a liar and a whore…"

She sat down on the floor in front of me and rested her hands on my knees. "That's not Mark, you and I know that. Anne surely knows it too. But what happened?"

"Anne was engaged a couple years ago. There were no set wedding plans or anything, but there was definitely a ring. And while they were out a couple days ago she ran into her ex-fiancée. Mark asked how she knew him and stuff and it came out that they were engaged. Anne wouldn't tell him why they called everything off and… Mark just lost it."

"I'm sure there was a reason, Roger. People change, you fall out of love. It sounds like he's being really stubborn." Mimi said.

"I think I just need some sleep to clear my head. It's not like I can unattach myself from everything but I just want a break from it all."

Mimi looked apologetic. "I'd stay with you, but I have to work tonight. I used up almost all of my leftover vacation days to go help my mom out."

"I understand." I kissed her forehead and headed into our room for what I was sure would be a restless slumber. After tossing and turning for a couple hours, I gave up and hauled my guitar and a blanket out to the fire escape. At least I could try to relax and maybe be productive.

The next morning, Mimi and I watched them from the windows upstairs. Anne was bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf, yet we could still see her shivering. Mark put his arm around her waist as he led her to the taxi. His knuckles were white from clenching his fist so hard. He's holding on for dear life. Anne is crying into his shoulder now, hugging him so tightly I'm sure that he'll have bruises tomorrow. I can see his lips moving, whispering something that's probably sweet and reassuring. That's Mark for you; a gentleman even at the worst times when he's falling apart at the seams. But I can see the crack in his armor and I know Mimi can too. She sniffs and hugs me tighter.

"Mark didn't sleep last night, did he?" Mimi looked up at me.

"I don't think so, no. I heard him for a while, shuffling around and talking to himself. Even so, just look at the black circles he has today. They're worse than usual."

"Poor Mark." Mimi sighed. "Let's go, Rog. I think he needs some time away from the prying eyes of his roommates so say some things to her." She gave me a knowing look.

"What did you do? Mimi, did you talk to him or something?" I followed her back into the kitchen.

She sat down with a cup of coffee that was probably cold. "When I came home last night, he was sitting here with his camera and the projector. I thought he was editing something for work, but he was actually watching what he filmed. And what was on the wall wasn't the typical, obscure Mark Cohen film. It was of them. Anne in the kitchen, cooking and dancing around in her underwear. Them kissing in Central Park, the Life. And I knew that he was crying and I didn't know what to say. So I just sat down and watched with him."

I sat down on the table. "Mimi, you didn't! Do you know how private that is? He was probably watching it because he thought we weren't going to disturb him."

"He didn't mind, at least I don't think he did. Every once in a while he'd make a comment about her or just sniff." Mimi shrugged.

"Mark's never got that upset about anything before. And I mean _anything_. Not even when I almost smashed his camera."

"When did that happen?" She asked, staring at me quizzically.

"It's not important. I'm worried about him. He's never been this distraught over someone, even when I was getting clean he was never this bad. I would hear him on the phone with my mom or Collins and he'd sound worn out but he looks like shit now. Way worse." I confessed.

Mimi slid into my lap, rubbing my shoulders and back softly. "I know, honey. I know. We'll help get him through this."

Mark closed the door of the loft and hurried into his bedroom without a word or sideways glance at either of us.

"In a couple months, they'll start over again. Rebuild their relationship from the ground up. Everything will work out." Mimi reassured me.

I nodded. "Because if it doesn't, I honestly doubt he'll be in another relationship. The trust issues he must have now… my god."

"Roger, if we didn't have something to fear about love, there'd be nothing there." Mimi said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, stroking her back.

"As much as I _know_ you love me, I'm still afraid of losing you because love is scary. I want to reciprocate the feelings and make you feel just as special as you make me feel, but I'm so worried that I'm going to disappoint you and not love you enough in return."

I looked at her, incredulous. "Meems, don't ever think that you don't love me as much as I love you. That's just… crazy."

She sighed. "Don't say that you never feel inadequate when you get _that_ kind of look that makes you feel really small and insignificant. Yes, it's loving but it can be overwhelming sometimes. It's like someone else has complete power over your emotions and that's scary."

I pulled her into a tight hug. "I love you, you know that? Thanks for putting up with my continuous bullshit."

* * *

The cat's out of the bag. Did anyone see this coming? I really hope not, because that would really ruin it for me. Actually, no it wouldn't because it would mean that you picked up on the subtle hints I've been dropping along the way. So if you figured it out beforehand, good for you. 

Up next: Mark's take on the situation and witnessing Anne's encounter with The Man. Poor Mark. I feel bad for him, I really do. But I love torturing the guy. And now for everybody's favorite part, review responses!

**EDIT: **I uploaded & published this chapter on the 4th, but something happened and it didn't take (I got no comfirmation email either) so it looked like I never updated. Go figure. So I deleted it and I'm trying again this time. Hopefully it works.

**Jack Flash**: The big deal is that Anne intentionally withheld important information from Mark. It makes her a little bit untrustworthy in his eyes and he gets pissed off. Rightfully so, right?

**DancingStarofOz**: I'm glad you like the story. Anne's a bit of a Mary Sue, I'll admit it. But I like how she's a dork just like Mark, hence her odd occupation. I've always hated how Mark is portrayed as the angel in relationships when I bet he has the most jaded view on them out of the whole group. So I'm trying to shed light on a more negative side of him that nobody really shows. Mark's not perfect? Gasp

**L.M. Ward**: OCD, eh? Good guess though. Come to think of it, I can totally see where you'd come up with that. You're clever and way too nice to mee. Were you surprised?

**Harper's Pixie**: I bet Roger reads people well. At least _my_ Roger does. Hence why he figured Anne out way centuries before poor Mark, who probably wouldn't have known for a lot longer had he not witnessed her with The Man.

**eLpHaBaFaBaLaElPhIeFaE**: Another good guess! I was trying to add things that would confuse the reader and give them all sorts of ideas and I guess it worked! Thanks for the sweet review

**JacksTortugaLass**: I remember you! Long time no see! I'm so glad you caught yourself up in the world of Anne & Mark. It's only going to get better (no wait, worse actually) from here.

**Jay**: I decided to wait a few days to let this stew in my mind before posting this chapter. I didn't want to rush things. Thanks for reviewing

-Ella


	14. Chapter 14

_Mark_

_I woke up and half expected Anne to be curled up beside me, her icy hands twisted up the back of my shirt. But as I woke up and thoughts of the previous night's actions returned to me, it registered that the last place she'd be at the moment was in bed with me. I put my glasses and the world came into focus. I shivered and shuffled into the kitchen, in dire need of a cup of coffee. I glanced over to the couch and was surprised to see it empty, the blankets neatly folded. I sighed and filled a mug before settling on the couch next to the phone._

_Her voice mail resonated through the receiver. "Hi, it's Anne. I can't come to the phone right now so leave your name, number, and a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!"_

"_It's Mark. I just wanted to talk to you… about last night. I love you. Bye." I sighed and returned the phone to its cradle._

"_Lover's quarrel?" Roger asked from his room, where the sound of his guitar tuning, followed by a sharp snap and a loud outcry of "Fuck!"_

"_Broke another string?" I called in to him._

"_More like two. Damn it, I just replaced these a couple weeks ago!" He exclaimed. I heard the snap of his guitar case. "I'm gonna go buy new ones. I'm in the middle of writing a kick ass riff and I don't want to quit because of a broken string. See you in a few." He shrugged his leather jacket on and shut the door hard on his way out._

_I flinched and headed out onto the fire escape with my mug and camera. Set on recording the chaos of a morning in the city._

_I zoomed in on a homeless man being kicked off his stoop by the police._

"_Pan across what has happened to Avenue B. If only Benny was here, the scene would be complete." I narrated, turning my gaze to a corner across the street that The Man is known to frequent. A short blonde with her hair tied back slipped him a few bills and he tucked a small baggie into her pocket. As she turned towards the loft, I caught sight of her face._

_No. That can't be._

_Anne pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as she hurried across the street, dodging a few cars before she made it to the front of the loft._

_I could hear my heart beating in my ears. There was still a sudden, dull ache beginning to form in my chest. I was no stranger to this sensation. Next comes the throbbing behind my eyes, the lump in my throat, and the familiar feeling of bile raising in my esophagus. I turned and stumbled back into the loft, carefully putting my camera on a bookshelf. My legs felt like jell-o, my knees ready to betray me at any moment._

"_Oh god." I mumbled, balancing myself against the wall for support. I felt as if I was being tossed around in an ocean, my stomach lurching with nausea. The front door opened and I heard the squeak of wet shoes on hard wood floor._

"_Hi, guys." Anne calls softly. She pauses, obviously noticing the unnatural silence. "Is anyone home?" The footsteps get louder as she nears. My door creaks open. "Mark?"_

_I groaned._

"_Are you alright?" She rushes over to me and presses a warm hand to my clammy face. "Your pale and your face is all sweaty."_

_I grab at her wrist, pushing it away from my forehead._

"_Mark? What's wrong?" She asks,_

_I pushed Anne against the crumbling walls, screaming, begging her to tell me that it's not true. Words are exchanged, tears fall, and next thing I know, Roger's pulling me into the kitchen by the collar of my shirt._

I softly shut the door to the loft and hurried past Roger and Mimi, who were waiting in the kitchen.

"Mark, sweetie?" Mimi calls after me.

I clench my jaw and shake my head as I close my bedroom door.

"Hiding in your room isn't going to change the situation." Roger's voice joined Mimi's. "You need to get everything out."

"I need to be alone. Please." I pleaded, wiping away the hot tears from my already overheated face. "I'm going to be alright. I just need to be alone right now."

I heard Roger sigh. "Whatever you need, Mark. We're here."

_Anne_

My heart was beating so fast, I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. All I had to do was make it onto that bus and I could start to make sense of my life again. I dug a few quarters out of my purse and inserted them in a payphone, dialing the loft's number. I heard the telltale beep of the answering machine.

At least one thing hadn't changed- they never picked up the phone.

"Stop screening and pick up. It's me." I said quietly. I heard a faint sound as if the phone was being picked up but no words from the other end.

"Hello? Mark?" All I heard was static; perfect timing for the phone's reception to go south. "Is anyone there?"

"Is that you, Anne? Oh my god, I've been waiting for your call all day! Are you running late? Or did you just not get to a phone until now? I tried calling you but I couldn't get through." He was talking a mile a minute, like he always does when he gets excited, questioning everything.

"I… I just couldn't get to a phone in time, I'm sorry." I said, setting my bag down on the damp concrete.

"When are you going to get back? I mean, if you need a ride I can pick you up-"

"It's alright. I have it covered." His eagerness to help both broke my heart and made me smile.

"Well, when can I expect you back at the loft? A time frame would be nice so I can try to pick up some of our shit. You know, without you here to clean up after us it's gotten pretty messy."

I laughed, in spite of myself and the situation. I took a deep breath and forced the tears back for a few more seconds. "Mark, I don't think I can do this."

I heard him take a sharp intake of breath. "What… I don't get it. Before you left, you were going as far to say that you'd die without me and now you want to just end everything?"

I leaned against the cold metal of the pay phone's frame, balancing the phone in between my head and shoulder, rubbing my temples. "It's not like that at all. Please just listen, Mark."

"Would you stop saying my name like that? Jesus, Anne. I may not be the smartest guy on the block, but I'm sure as hell not following what you're saying."

"I don't want to break up with you, not in the least." I began. I knew that my words needed to be chosen carefully. "I'm going away."

He sighed heavily. "For how long?" He was exasperated with me, no doubt about it, but I could hear the desperation in his voice.

"I... I don't know. As long as this takes." I couldn't believe what I was doing. Of all the ways this could have happened, this was not the way I pictured it ending. I was breaking Mark's heart.

"What is _this_, Anne? I'm floundering here, give me something!"

"I have to find myself, Mark. And I know that sounds cliché and stupid, and I'm sorry. But you have to understand-"

"Understand what? The fact that I've waited three months for you? You don't need a genius to figure this out. I love you, Anne. I wouldn't have gone through this with you if I didn't."

I choked back a sob and cried for a few minutes. I must've been quite the sight, sitting at a New York Transit bus stop surrounded by bags and sobbing.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mark." I sniffed "And I know that's not going to make any difference to ease the pain. I never thought it would end this way."

"Wait, didn't you just say that we weren't over? Not for good, at least." His voice was airy and soft, a little bit higher than usual.

_Great job, Anne. You've succeeded in making the poor boy cry._

"We're not. Unless you want that…" I took in one long, shaky breath and continued. "Mark, I can't love you until I know how to love myself. And now that the drugs and garbage are out of my life, I need to learn how to do that on my own. Living the loft with you and Roger and Mimi isn't going to work at the moment. I just need space."

"I can understand that." He replied softly. "But can't you do it here? I would give you all the time you need and only when you're ready…" he trailed off.

"I wish it was that easy, I really do. But it'd be too tempting to just give up and go back to you."

"Come back to me? Thanks, thanks a lot Anne." Mark spat. He stopped for a minute or two, trying to regain his composure. "I didn't mean to get angry but it's the only emotion that's really making itself known right now. I don't know what to expect."

"How can I give all of myself to you when there are pieces of me that I need to fix? Could you try thinking of it that way?" I asked.

_Please understand. You got a 1420 on your SAT's, this shouldn't be that hard._

"Where are you going?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I don't know yet. Far enough, but not exactly close either." I responded. For once, it was the truth. I didn't know where I would go after I took this bus. It could be anywhere.

"Are you going to call? Or at least write." I heard him swallow hard.

"Mark, writing means that I'd have to give a return address. And I know that you'd give me my space and respect my privacy, but I don't want either of us to be tempted." I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Do you promise you'll come back?"

I sighed. "I… yes."

"Please don't say it if you don't mean it." Mark pleaded, his voice cracking.

"I'll come back, I promise." The bus driver opened the door, gesturing for the small group of passengers to start boarding. "I have to go. I love you, Mark."

"I love you too." He whispered.

I wiped tears away as I added my bag to the growing pile by the side of the bus.

"Leaving someone special behind?" The driver asked, giving me a sympathetic smile.

"Very."

"Everything happens for a reason, my dear. Just have a little faith in mankind and the ability for love to prevail, even over distance." He patted my shoulder.

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the bus, readying myself for whatever was to come. I liked the uncertainty of what I was about to do; going to a place where I didn't know anyone and where no one knew about me.

* * *

Is this an update? No, it can't be! Ella NEVER updates! 

ducks flying objects

Oh to update, the American Dream.

I apologize for taking so long, I really do. This story got shoved to the back burner and I just didn't have time to sit down and really pump out a full chapter. But I'm almost finished with the last one. The finale, if you will. But there's not going to be a seqel or anything- it's still just going to be Emotion Sickness. Only Part II, if you will. Same story, different chapter of their lives. Get it?

I'm seriously contemplating a re-write of this, which I would do and post as I finish the chapters. Although it would get in the way of upcoming ones, there are just some inconsistencies in my own writing that I can't stand and I would like to correct them and make it right. But I'd like to get other people's opinions and input on a possible re-write, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts.

**Harper's Pixie**: You know that you're my favorite reviewer... ever, right? Good. And I told myself when I was starting this story that my OC wasn't going to have money problems or just be some silly naive girl who falls in love. She needed baggage, REAL baggage that nobody was going to expect. Hence, the drug use.  
**  
eLpHaBaFaBaLaElPhIeFaE**: At least I surprised someone. Thanks for reviewing. P.S.- I'm always paranoid of spelling your username wrong, like every time I write it I have to check it at least twice.

**Jack Flash**: My Mark has trust issues, which I'll develop further in the next few chapters. I know that is hasn't made much sense thusfar and I'm working on. He gives people too much benefit of the doubt and ends up getting hurt. He's completely quixotic and I love him.

**DancingStarofOz**: I AM SO GLAD SOMEONE FIGURED IT OUT! I was trying to drop subtle hints throughout the chapters and I wanted someone to call me on it, but nobody did. And I meant for Roger to find out first because he would recognize it immediately. And I've always liked the idea that his anger in Goodbye Love is rightous, but nobody has ever seen it.

**L.M. Ward**: Another one of my favorites. And I'm glad it makes sense. I'm contemplating a re-write after the next chapter- do you think it's worth it? Because I really, really want it.

**JacksTortugaLass**: Mark's just being a fool. After putting Roger through it the first time, he just doesn't want to deal with it again. And if you go into rehab for a serious problem, it takes a couple months to get you clean (unless you do rapid detox). Can you chalk it up as Mark being stupid?

Thanks to **Koishii-Kitsune-Akira**, **Jacinda**,** KajiMori**, and **Silver Anarchist**.

It's been a long time coming, but I'm glad to be back!

-Ella


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